She's seen it all

She stands in the graffiti lined

Concrete playground,

Pushing her youngest child

Back and forth on the creaking swings.

Her greasy matted peroxide mane

Needs a wash and a cut,

The style isn’t even last years

It’s extinct.

 

Her child is happy

Safe with his mother –

He never sees his father –

He has several older siblings

They are half blood not full.

 

On her fingers are rings,

Sovereigns, Bands and

Moody diamonds –

Her attire is all the latest brands

The current jeans, tops and trainers –

All stolen and fake,

All from the back of a lorry –

 

The creaking iron reverberates

Around the empty play area –

It is damp –

In the evening it becomes an arena

For the youths to fight, laugh,

Drink and puff in-

She used to hang around here

Herself –

Back in her teens –

And so will her children –

Who knows, this beautiful

Innocent one before her,

May one day become a minor dealer –

 

She drops her cigarette,

Sighs, and lifts up the kid.

Goes back to the flat,

Bored with her lot –

Puts the central heating on

Makes a cupp’a and toast –

 

Daytime TV

More bills in the post

Hangs the washing on

The balcony,

The launderette,

She can’t be arsed –

A quick joint before three,

Then pick up the kids,

B***h with other mothers

Smoking f**s by the gates –

And when the kid’s rush out

To greet her, she doesn’t ask

About their day –

Just pushes the pram in silence,

She’s got enough on her plate –