Hit and run. 13 years old. Unlucky for some. Ariel. Bold.

Here’s a terrifying truth:

I don’t remember.


I NEVER do.


Your face,
your name,
the way that you dress -
all fade as I try
to grasp,
to contest.


When I was a child
I crossed a bend too quickly
without checking
if it was safe to do so.
The impact
from that day
knocked me on my back
and jolted my brain.

I was punched in the face.

On several occasions.

I can’t remember.

I chose the station.

Repetition to feel safe.
Repetition to grow.
Repeated moments
that I feel that I know.


Some of you will like the rhymes.
And enjoy the metre,
whilst the miles are mine.


I lost my youth.

I miss my mind.