MVC The Next Chapter

I have this face in my mind’s eye,

A silhouette of a face,

So very, very close,

Obscenely familiar.

The face of my mum.

Smoking, puffs cascade around here regretting eyes,

The tears flow down here coal stained cheeks:

‘I am just so very very sad: about how  my life turned out’.

She whispers, like the ghost she now is.

It’s a warning. You know.

A warning to you, and me.

The guilt of the working class,

Isn’t

The guilt of the working class.

It’s, actually, the guilt of those who dare even dream:

Of escape.

Just as soon as you hit that jackpot, the till chimes and the pennies roll in:

The pattern stops it.

DEAD.

Oh, forgive yourself,

It isn’t deliberate.

It’s a programme.

Let’s reprogramme it: eh?

Part of a series… let’s reprogramme it… grab the next to rewire 😉