France 1915.
I lay in mud with all the fighting men
in trenches sniper-ed at from every side.
They called me Tommy then…they never
knew that I was not a boy.
I learned to walk with manly gait,
they never did suspect.

Contaminated by the blood of men
It was the water made me ill.
The army locked me in a convent then
Forbidding me to speak….

…and now I’m in a ‘loony bin.’

London 1925
‘Drop slow my tears, here went the years.
I look through bars that keep me in
And there is no escape.
They told me yesterday that when I die
There’s none to bury me
and I will lie unknown.
Unmarked will be my paupers grave.’

I was an orphan child and raped as such
by my Church Guardian.
A man of many evil shades,
He still roams free
And I am locked away….
Drop slow my tears.

1964
The angels are not here,
Just endless days, monotony
and now l die alone.

…Quand le soleil dit bonjour
aux montagnes…je suis seul.
Je suis seul.

KB March13th 2017