Three fat man came up the stairs.
I got a bat wrapped around my head.
Taekwondo kicked in, and I saved my life, but didn't bubble up so the police ruined my life.
To be a grass, or to not be a grass, that was the question.
This was published in a Flash Fiction Book "50 Short Stories Of 2021" After Winning Their Flash Fiction Competition For that day of the year.
I'm thinking no doctor can fix me,
and why are hospital wards so noisy.
What do these tubes of liquid pump into me.
Do any nurses look on with real pity?
A week in bed then home thankfully.
I thought God, why do bad things always happen to me.
© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert ReidHello I'm Rob, and I'm an addict,
To be honest my addiction, is my habit.
Please close this page, if you ever liked me,
I don't want more ex friends, to think I'm mad as can be.
The truth is, I'm addicted to self abusing,
The truth is, I'm addicted to self amusing.
The truth is, I'm addicted to unhealthy and sickening care,
You can easily see the scars, on my limbs though my hair.
I'm addicted to being, sad and alone,
And I don't have the balls, to ever pick up a phone.
I'm addicted to major, self harm and abuse,
My life is a long road to hell, that was illegally introduced.
So basically I'm addicted, to not giving a fuck,
And I enjoy getting hit hard, when I'm having a ruck.
I like digging holes, deep in my own skin,
And I like cutting people up, like a can tin.
I'm addicted to always seeing the worst,
Coz the worst of the worst, is my own worse curse.
I can't help the flow, of my thin watery blood,
As the rain washes my body, lying unconscious in mud.
I'm addicted to nasty police, harassment and tugs,
They always ask if I'll hit them, when taking off cuffs.
I've had bare police cold, in my own hands,
The hands of a man, who didn't know the length of his own plans.
I'm addicted to not caring, about holes and cuts,
I'll end up alone, life’s clock ticked all out of all luck.
It's a shame there's no detox, that could ever fix me,
Take the drugs and meds away, and then you'll see.
That all my self harm, has probably been,
A way of keeping my family and friends, safe n clean.
Coz unfortunately the life I wanted, was not in store,
And I've walked dark roads, that nobody saw.
God just decided to deal me an early duff hand,
The sort in poker that only blags, bluffs n lies withstand.
I've tried, but there is no 12 step program for me,
And my only chip, has the Grim Reaper stamped for everyone to see.
© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
We R now all living in a police state,
U thought I was joking a year back big mistake.
BoJo lies n toos n frows about a covid passport,
It was never in doubt, a 100% thought.
We r now just data in a 4th gen database,
Just stick to the rules serf, know ur place.
Police break up gatherings, n follow dog walkers with drones,
Try n explain wats goin on, people respond wiv moans.
We must all do it, "to get back to normal" ppl say,
Well what's normal now, wasnt just a yr away.
Your all just compliant n docile.
I'm fucking defiant n vocal.
I want 1984 to go back to being a book,
This wasn't the way Orwell thought our land wud look.
So stick heads out ass n read from the many cancelled,
N then maybe dem brains wouldn't be so scrambled.
© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid