Pushed from the womb.

Into rat-infested squalor.
Where lights didn’t burn,
and water didn’t flow.

Into drug and domestic abuse.
Where dad held fire beneath the spoon,
and mam held tears behind bruised eyes.

Into physical and emotional abuse.
Where beatings broke the skin,
and we suffered piss-taking daily.

Into sleeping rough and foster care.
Where nights blazed with unrest,
and foster homes were never home.

Sometimes we are thrown towards the tit,

and the breast milk we swallow
is rotten.

But we need it.

It makes us