Fallen States

 

Sweet England,
Faded Beauty,
The prom queen,
Full of punch,
On her back,
In the car park,
Legs apart,
Some wryly amused onlookers gather,...
Chatter,
Feign disintrest,
With just a touch of envy,

Sweet England,
You showed such promise,
And now your roads,
Are track marks on your arm,
Collapsed veign,
Gaunt features,
Opiate eyes,
Dazed,
Our ex-heroine,
Staggers out into the motorway traffic,

Sweet England,
Mascara runs,
You sit amidst the srtreamers,
Of last nights party,
Bottles about you,
Your dress is torn and soiled,
Lost on gin,
Alone now,
As in reality you have always been,
And cry yourself to sleep,

Sweet England,
What have you done to yourself,
You let it go,
Stopped caring,
Chased a pretty rich boy,
Who used you,
Dumped you,
And will call again,
The next time he's at a loose end,
For a shag,
And desperate for old glory,

You'll comply and go along,
For the joyless joyride,
A murderers accomplice,
A whore for the bidder,
Complicit in your silence,
Unwilling to make a change,
You'll die alone,
Sleeping pills next to the phone,
But he wont come,
"Just a pathetic cry for help"

 

M Joseph Burt 03-07-06