Sins Of The Father

I entered a creative writing and poetry competition on the BBC website last year. The objective was to write something about how you view the area you currently live in. I don’t actually come from round here so I wrote an objective outsiders view. I didn’t win, surprise surprise, because I didn’t bang on about how great this place is. I didn’t know it was a fiction competition.

What Did I Write?

Here is my entry but the site has presented it very badly and I swear they’ve edited it a bit too.

Once there was this young boy hanging out there on the street.
Everyone knew that he was a joke.
He thought he knew it all but he didn’t have a clue
So he cried when all his plans went up in smoke.

Then there was this young girl standing out there on a corner
Selling her love to the men she’d meet.
With decency in mind, the lawman threw her into jail.
Last night I saw her back out on that street.

I know that you’ve watched these stories played out for so long.
I know that, like me, you too once knew these kids.
Once there was an auction for these children’s innocence
And you were right there pushing up the bids.


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