Monday, 25 October 2010

she doesn't exist

This is a found poem.
It was related to me by a man who picked me up whilst hitch-hiking from London to Bristol a good few years back.


I met this girl, she said she'd become always scared
I'm always scared, she said, I can't stop
she was twenty, she'd been on the road since thirteen
thin girl, khaki and black
thin face round cheeks blonde dreads
three years ago she was on the roads protest
she was there when they got evicted
the police kept the journalists out
they beamed in their mikes
but all they heard was shouting and screaming
it was private security, with pick-axe handles
backed up by the old bill
they were smart, they only hit the soft bits
no broken bones no fractured skulls
they did her for resisting arrest
which was running away from a screaming maniac with a pick-axe handle
she was out on bail when they did the others
and they got like six months and four months
and she couldn't handle that
so she did a runner
and now she doesn't exist
no dole no college no numbers no nothing
she’s living up a tree by a quarry in somerset
and she doesn't exist
she's outside life
she's given up the weed
but there's loads she don't remember
her eyes are glazed and she's not quite there
and she's always scared
she can't stop
she's always scared

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