from the improbable cliff
eating lunch,
getting drunk,
on the heady delights of being liked

society is rotten to the core
but working class pick the fruit
and the middle class listen to the ‘mummy juice’ pour

once i did,
when childhood less easily hid
before it climbed into the adult shaped box
and closed the lid

you know,
this life thing,
it is difficult,
right?

we are not embedded –
in nurturing love
that would furnish us,
with coping mechanisms
and not anxious touch

when i was younger
i feared the unknown
and felt achieving acceptability
would show how i had grown

it learned power and wealth –
can define what is true
the rich, wealthy, powerful elite
got good at smiling
whilst revelling in deceit