...........Statistic Poem by NikMorgan ...

She lives inner city
In the shadow of tower blocks
Birds of a feather get farmed together
Scummy mummies
With cider breath and celebrity fixations
Proudly display the fruits of their labour
The streets are paved with benefits
She spends her days counting down the giro
Her life is empty
Like the box that she lives in
Baba, baba
The first and last words she hears

She made her bed
Lying on her back
Looking for an exit
The easy answer was always to do nothing at all
All she ever wanted was to be on her own

In the concrete playground
Kids run wild
Pondering the identity of fathers unknown