Memories

At school

I had such trouble

Making friends

Until I made some

Trouble-making

Friends

Hanging around

With the rude

And the bad folks

We had a pool

And Ms Hester

Had me doing

The backstroke

An older girl

And her

Friend said,

“We’ve kissed

Enough frogs

But you’re cute

As a tadpole”

“So choose

Between us two

Or if you want to

You can have both”

Shy as I was

I ran inside

To the cloakroom

And put my head

Inside the hood

Of my Mac coat

Back home

Was a

Thunderous voice

When my brute

Of a dad spoke

He was someone

I didn’t feel

I could approach

He put me over

His lap so

He could give me

Fifty fluid

And fast strokes

Of the cane

An abusive childhood

I know was to blame

For my hopelessness

Shame

And becoming

Hooked on

Alcohol and cocaine

All these years

I’ve been

Holding the pain

But these

Are my memories

My personal script

In which

I’ve been defined

And you can figure

Out the mysteries

Which come as gifts

If you read

Between the lines

You might wonder,

“Is it fiction

Or is it meant

To be fact?’’

It’s both

And what I happen

To remember aswell

Is in class

When I

Sat on Emily’s lap

And chased Michael

Till he “fell”

On green grass

But there could be

Definitely

More entries

Cash, spent

From my

Memory bank

This’ll suffice

As a brief record

Of a life, that

Evidently has

Been a see-saw

And through

My words

You can envision

Everything I saw, 

you see?

And that’s how

The movie of

My story reads

Many experiences

Went well

Many ended

Horribly

But they would

Be nothing

Without myself

In them

Afterall, isn’t

A crucial part

Of ‘memories’

‘Me’?