in year six
i smeared my face
with the yves st laurent
my mum kept
in her pink
butterfly bag.
i rubbed it in
with my fingers
and a kleenex roll
and prayed she wouldn't notice
when it didn't
mix in properly
YOU ARE READING
Just Another Scripted Brain
PoetryMy naive attempt to navigate primary school is documented in a series of bite-size snapshots, intended for scrutiny and best paired with a cup of tea and a nice episode of Blackadder. You might have to take a pit stop at certain embarrassing moment...
