The Online Photo Album
A couple of days to go, 1000 words to write, I pen this poem in a panic. Feedback please? It's a first draft, and I know it's well far from perfect.
It seems that someone’s put up some childhood photos,
And as I flick through, looking at the fancy dress parties,
I know, to remember who we were, they are our sole momentos.
The tragedy is not the growing up, for time cannot freeze.
It’s the often inexplicable change that I’m not ready for.
That little boy, dressed as Batman, playing among the trees?
His number is now one that many store.
He pushes weed mainly, due to the high demand
Among those young and old, but for a fair amount more,
Heroin, ecstasy, coke and the like can be on hand.
The girl in the princess costume, with tiara and pink dress
Is his willing slave, his heroin addict workhand.
I saw her last week, she was in pieces, a mess.
She didn’t know who I was. She ran off.
Another girl’s a Prozac dropout, due to university stress.
The sweet baby-faced boy is now a write-off
Who sits in his room, stoned, and waiting for… something.
His family have apparently chosen the approach of ‘hands-off’.
And that girl, the quiet one, is now in the process of finding
Herself, by surrounding herself with a veil of promiscuity.
There, she’s dressed as a gypsy, and is in the corner, reading.
It’s me; you know a lot changes at university?