Creative Writing


A song comes on that perhaps, he used to play

And dragging on a meagre joint, rolled expertly as he lies naked in bed

He tries to sing once again

Cracked and strained he can’t give up, the notes

Linger in the smokey air

The stale smell of disappointment, despair

Leaning over, he ashes into the horrible skull pot that squats among its poisons

Half drunk beers, sickly flavoured water, wrappers

Like an allegory of death in some dutch still life

What will become of you?

Orphan of hardship, thrust out fiercely into a betraying world

Drowned kittens buried in buckets

Love lost, don’t stay here too long

Licking your rollies and your wounds

Youth doesn’t wait, you know,

Its gone so soon

You surrender the wrong way by clinging sadly to whats gone

Your kisses are filled with angry passion and I let you devour me

Because I am so much younger and stronger than you

Pain has not worn me away

I can stay, for a while

In this place, sleeping together in the day

Maybe I can give you some of my peace

Ambitious plans for a hole

That you desperately fill

Oh oui baby, i’ll hold you tonight

The teenage mother, the child bride

To this man, this orphan,

 who wishes to come inside 

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About Author

Saskia Ramsden

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May 2022
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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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