A random muscly guy turned,
Lit a little by the beer and disco lights,
Asked me, What happened to your face?
Teen boys in stained white suits
Laughed
Hard faced girls
Giggled into cupped hands.
Not the first time
Someone had mocked me.
Had stolen my peace of mind
Thriving on a hateful slur.
That evening soaking up scotch
I searched for a little self love.
Any time it appeared
It was stung by the slur
And died.
When i woke up
In the morning
They had left me,
The odd number
In the dead disco
Alone with my blackout
In a tight corner.
Categories: Blog, Creative writing, Poetry, uncategorised
A Different Country 
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