It is said in the book that the family shelter
Protects the individual from the indifference of the World.
And that only by intercourse with others
Can we see and comprehend others as brothers.
That our neighbours’ weaknesses
Are ours no less than his.

But I can’t see things like that at all;
The family irritates me, gets up my nose;
Don’t understand, don’t even try to.
So there are rows, and that makes life worse
Because you feel there could be something more
Something just below the surface
Waiting to be touched, or to touch
That awful emptiness that doesn’t go away.
There are times that I want to love them,
But they criticise and shout,
And so when they try to make it up
I just play tough and turn about.
This ‘intercourse with others’ lark
Are only words to make you do
What you wouldn’t want to do if left alone.
Of course you do have chums
And I dream sometimes of how life really might have been;
It’s a nice feeling until someone comes along
And starts talking.It’s always a grown up
Who spoil things. They can’t leave anyone alone.
They want to know things, or pretend they do
And then shove off abruptly
‘Must go now.’ Bye for now.’
As though I care.
They wouldn’t own up to weaknesses
Nor want to discuss mine
Or anyone else’s as such.
I  don’t know what weaknesses are anyway,
Because no one comes out with it straight.
Everything is so fuzzy
And what one thinks is alright
Someone else is all against.
‘Wake up.’ They say. ‘You’re dreaming again.’
‘Girls, I bet.’ And give a knowing stare.
But I don’t know anything about girls;
I’d like to, but I wouldn’t dare.

October 1992