Eulogy to my Home Town

Eulogy to my Home Town

A Poem by Quinn
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I come from a town that has basically nothing left, it has been damaged and left to rot for years. This poem was written on the walk home from the town center, as I felt sad about my home town.

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This is a eulogy to my home town

We’ve seen this all, we’ve seen this coming it’s every

Pavement every street, just broken

Yes, it’s been like that for years and everyone’s just kinda got used to it, there’s a limit to what you feel like you can do after a while

 

The broken windows along every path and street are the marks on your body

You’ve got a pound shop as your floor board to hide your alcohol and to hide the tears

 

You’ve got a few good moments

You’ve still got a cinema you still got some restaurants

Still got the big shops and �" that’s enough isn’t it

Those are your job, those are the things you are just about clinging onto but you know damn well that it’s not going to last

 

Everynow and again you get a new haircut, new make up anything and you are ready and you can face the world a little stronger a little better all because two people with some scissors and a ribbon have told you you’re doing better

Not actually checking the underlying problems, not actually checking that everything is functioning you’ve got a sickness within you, an illness, a sadness, it’s just desperate wanting to get out

Takes the souls from the people around you because otherwise you don’t know how to survive

 

And then another politician will come along

And they say they will make you a better place, make you better for the people within you, I will make your life better

But all they are shiny faced twats with paycheques that’s it

 

So

What have we got

What about the population can’t they do more

What about your grass roots build yourself up but no

You’ve got apathy

You’ve got such high apathy that the population can’t even raise a fist

And will those politicians do anything about it

 

No

It’s because of the youth, because of the immigration, because of unemployment, because of laziness, it’s because of mental illness

I’m going to tell you that it’s not

These are symptoms, they are trying to treat symptoms and not treating the disease, they aren’t treating the problem that is them

 

The repercussions

 

The problems from the top

They see you as an isolated case as an outsider because you’re still in the south east

You’re still surrounded by high prices for houses and rent, you’re still surrounded by towns that work and trainlines that run.

 

They take it out of the people they’ve left behind by blaming them, because they’re too fat, too lazy, too stupid

But if the politicians could actually listen

Take off that last layer of paint they coated on to make you look better, step back from the campaign before that and the one before that what’s actually left �" what are the problems that they have left, that they have ignored for the past forty years

You’re my home town

You’re where I grew up

Where I thought the whole world was

 

And I know it’s easy for me to say that you’ve gone down hill

But f*****g hell you have

 

I want you to get better, I really do, this sickness though, this sickness isn’t even from you, this sickness is from the people who do nothing with you in mind, the people who look down, gaze down on you without a second thought

You’re not the problem �" they are the problem

But they’ve got spoons up their arses to tell them that’s not the case

 

And I know it’s hard

To say that you have to admit defeat, I’m hoping there is a way

But repercussion after repercussion

I feel

Sadly

It may be too late

© 2018 Quinn


Author's Note

Quinn
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Added on January 9, 2018
Last Updated on January 9, 2018
Tags: home town, town, eulogy, poem, poetry, aldershot

Author

Quinn
Quinn

Glasgow, United Kingdom



About
Sad AF. Dysfunctional AF. Queer AF. He/Him. Trans-guy. Bisexual. I am a first year university student in Glasgow who has been writing poetry since 2014 to varying levels of success. I also perf.. more..

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