Poems From a Runaway - Running further (part one)

(A poem about running away further aged 11/12)

Running further (part one)

Once again Im in a car, on my way to my new home.
Yet again Im stepping in, to the land of the unknown.
And I know that I will be, outside of their front door,
Knowing Ill be living there, not meeting them before.

But by now I guess that I just take it as it comes.
It wont be bad, I guess Im glad, Im closer to my mums.
My school is just right around the corner, my familys house aint far,
And I guess that I am now intrigued, to find out who they are.

We walk up their garden path, the social worker knocks,
And I remember feeling, like a dog someone adopts.
I stand there with my bag, and then the front door opens wide,
Shes now my third foster mum, she says come on inside.

Im intrigued to meet the family, and everybody there,
I didnt know that I would be, the only kid in care.
At first it werent a problem, but then over time,
I kinda felt the odd one out, like this home just werent mine.

Fighting with their older lad, and not much around to do,
Always kicked out from my school, suspensions through and though.
So at night Id pack a bag and walk to the edge of town,
Where Id go, I would not know, Id then flag a car down.

Once found myself in Birmingham, then walking to West Brom.
Completely different sort of vibe, to the place that Ive come from.
I guess I just want something different, some sort of life somewhere,
And never think about food or sleep,, when Im walking there.

Eventually try to get some sleep, a bench there in the park,
But its hard to sleep when you see folk, walking in the dark.
Then after a week or so, I just cant go on no more,
I say sorry that Ive ran away, and they always ask what for.

The trouble is that by this point, I never really knew,
I had no answers for these things, on impulse that Id do.
Theyd caught me before a few times leaving, in the middle of the night,
My foster mum would make a drink and ask was I alright.

But soon to come I was to leave, this time in life had ended.
On one chilled out summers day, when I had been suspended.
My foster mum was going out and said There is ninety pound,
Can you pay the bills man when he comes? and I said Yeah sound.”

Only ten more minutes on that solitaire, and that there is a rule,
You cant be playing on computers, while youre off from school.
Sure thing I said, then said goodbye, and then she left the door,
I carried on with my game, and didnt think much more.

Then soon after I turned around, to make myself a drink,
And on my way back, I saw the money, then started to think.
Thats loads of money, I could escape, and get me out of here,
Ive never once seen a whole ninety pounds, it will probably last a year.

If I take the time, to pack a bag, maybe someone will come back.
So I better hurry, with all of this money, and this time leave my rucksack.
I look out of the window, check that nobody sees me, before darting out of the door.

I think this is the big one, and my heart is racing, faster than it has done before.

Poetry written by Ben Westwood, Musician and poet. UK
Copyright Ben Westwood. 

You can read the first fourteen poems written for this project at the following link.

To order a signed colour copy you can order via paypal below.
The price is £18.99 including postage and packaging

Signed to
Delivery address

If you'd rather not wait until my next print run, and would like a cheap option, then I have a black and white version that you can buy direct from Amazon for £13.99 at https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1981314350

And also digital PDF versions are currently available for just £7 and will be sent to your paypal email address.
You can purchase a PDF of Poems From a Runaway using the paypal button below.

Preferred Email Address

Follow the true story of a young teenager running away from home and the state, in a premature search for independence. In poetry. 

Making choices that often only a young mind would make, Ben tells his story and memories of being in the social services system from eleven years old, as well as 1990s London street life, as a missing runaway sleeping rough.

No comments:

Post a Comment