Deprivation
Deprived of a relationship,
When i just so needed one,
A social worker relationship,
Holding no bar, mind or gun.
Having nobody to talk to,
Is not very nice, not right,
When people matter to you,
And god is their height.
Not understanding reason,
Sat within two metal bars,
Everything feeling like treason,
You’re left with only scars.
Contemplating memory,
If yours does to other people,
When you state your story,
About the faithful’s steeple.
Deciding you’re an atheist,
With evolution at your back,
Hoping there will be no theist,
In the school staff’s stack.
Disappointed by Assembly,
Hurt by daily implementation,
Annoyed by the physio bubbly,
Who offered religious direction.
Affected by the school kids,
Who’d accepted the basic god,
Given it by teachers’ bids,
Who were in no way odd.
Not wanting life anymore,
Attempting to, not succeeding,
Then deciding to come ashore,
With the school doctor, bleeding.
Happy from that moment on,
When I shared my heart with him;
He was not in any way gone,
When others proved terribly dim.
He was my friend at university,
My carers’ supervisor and my physio,
And still to this day in animosity,
My mum doesn’t know about him, foe.
What’s the point of that silence,
The slip of her mind every time,
Her forgetfulness about his presence,
When i refer to him as mine?
She thinks she’s on top of me,
Above all my formal relationships,
But the right the live, you see,
Rests with you and not kinships.
Privacy is privacy, and it means space,
And the doctor’s room is confidential;
You can make or brake by your face,
Your relationships by your prudential.
Copyright © Dominique Webb | Year Posted 2016
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