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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #1109207
life in my nursing home
the confines of this chair
with its steel
and its wheels
and the dignity it steals

"but grandad what about the freedom it gives you
now that you are able to go to the garden
or the communal room
or the reading room on your own?"

i suppose i suppose
but no one really knows
how sitting here feels
and the dignity it steals

"but granddad mr evans and mr wilkinson
and the man who calls me silvy even though my name is michelle
and mrs parker they all use a wheelchair
and also the man who dresses as a captain
who wants to race you all the time,
they know how it feels"

the confines of my mind
in there i am proud
i stand tall with my rifle
shooting the germans

"granddad would you like me to push you in the gardens?"

yes dear
save my arms for racing the captain
i will beat the bastard tomorrow
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