Little Bird

It was only a Sparrow
a tangle of feathers
At the Kerb
a little spot of blood
a little pang of hurt
hit by a car
or a tumble from high
a gentle air
high in the sky
what tragedy and pain
for me sat beside
for isn’t a life a life
no matter what
and the wind
blows it’s feathers
and the traffic roars by
and i sit for a while
and have a little cry
little bird im sorry

Black Iron Ammonia

aaaabloo

My forehead is pressed to the cold floor
it smells of disinfectant ammonia agrophobia
i can hear them on the other side
laughing over Facebook photos
nights out in drunken madness
shriek of giggling mess and humour
i cant turn my head or get up
a stream of very red blood
tickles my skin and nose
i must have passed out
some tubes have tangled
and the machine danger bleeps
in the toilet very loud
an awful sound amplified
i sit up with my cut head
and the blood spots my nightgown
i weep a little bit
but have no energy to call
over the noise of fun facebook laughs
so i just sit and bleed
and even now years passed
and i still sit and weep
Love and sympathy everywhere
but not a drop to drink
and the Nurses all wear Jackboots
my heart it starts to sink
No sunsets in the West
No gradual path to the warmth
A cast away hand to help
We all die alone