Joshua Harrison

Lessons Learnt

Why are we born crying?
And why do we die with eyes dry?
Are we more knowledgable at birth;
Before we learn to lie?
We tell ourselves that our struggles,
Are for God or wealth or love.
But if life is in fact a miracle,
I need to talk to whoever’s above.
A miracle is meant to be good,
Impossibility and perfection.
But birth is not impossible,
It takes bad decisions and an erection.
Then the product of the mistake,
Treats the family like a tumour:
Needs food, nappies, toys.
We’re born to be consumers.
Now baby’s at school,
And Daddy’s moved out.
Mamma bear came home early
And saw Goldilocks about.
Baby and Mommy live alone,
But Daddy pays the bills.
Mommy bear’s not breathing;
Drowning in the pills.
Baby’s growing up now,
Stopped reading fairytales in bed.
It’s no longer sheep or sugarplums,
Dancing through his head.
He’s old enough to understand,
He has a family but there’s a clause:
His parents love him lots,
But they hate each other and he’s the cause.
He writes poems about society,
Being a victim and escaping.
But he can see that he’s becoming
What the Prime Minister wants shaping.
He wants to leave his town of birth;
Raise a middle finger as goodbye.
But to do that he needs a ticket,
And a ticket you must buy.
With pockets empty he walks to school,
With heart empty he returns.
Children can be mean,
But still, within, he burns.
He works and works to build his mind,
Into what they want him to be.
To one day steal their money.
Then at last he might be free.
With pen in hand and heart in mouth,
With excitement not with fear.
The final exam approaches,
He’s worked hard to get himself here.
As he looks out the window he smiles,
At the world about to be his.
Who knew that in this society,
Your life could depend on a quiz?
But as he stares he thinks of his past,
The home which he has fled from.
His dream flashes before his eyes,
Ideal home, wife and income.
The paper folds into a monster,
So much greater in size than it should.
He looks towards his peers,
But they’re working and they are good.
The monster holds him high,
Brings him close to his lips and mutters:
‘I was made to test the Gods,
Not mistakes born in gutters’.
Baby stares back at the monster,
That he knows does not lie.
He grabs it by the ear,
And bellows his reply:
‘I am indeed from the gutter,
For I have lived under the street.
But this is what you learn,
Living under people’s feet:
I don’t need a bite of your world,
While it looks so appetising.
Society is a product,
And the wealthy are advertising.
I am more than a grade,
A letter you have branded.
I am more than a mistake,
Born empty-handed.’
The world had turned its back,
God had watched and listened.
Against the darkness he’d seen,
The boy now shone and glistened.
Seeing that the boy,
Was so much stronger than his ‘Gods’,
The Monster folded back,
He saw that against the odds,
This child born of mistakes,
Illness and regret.
Had learnt to love himself:
A lesson never to forget.

Comments1

  • KoKoRosie

    I love love love this! Amazing writing!



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