The White clouds look too real

The  white clouds look too real

It makes them seem artificial

The sun is making them glow,nor healthily eitherm

They add a certain ornate beauty to the sky

I wish to know that had not built the extension to their kitche

They don’t even seem to be there now

Why did they bother?

There’s a tiny cloud like a left behind baby

Or a squirrel.

There’s a West wind now and it’s very strong.

I’d like to go outside but I can’t.

My sister is ill. The Impossible death

Now seems imminent

It’s alright for the clouds they have no hearts.

I still have mine but maybe one day it will just give up

Too many dying people around

And the politicians don’t help

I wonder where they find them now

Maybe under an artificial rock at Southport

The lamp posts scream with laughter

I wonder where my mother is but there’s no way to find out

One day I will die as well

That’s all we need to know