Like a drug store cassette

I was blank, mummified

‘til, like resurrection rites,

I had a story etched into me.

And it’s so wrong

I can feel it breaking me,

But I keep on playing out

keep selling out 

the glory of school-girl dreams.

It’s a solemn tune

And I keep slipping 

a few millimeters behind

society’s march 

to stay just a day ahead of 

hope’s suicide.

Veronica Russell