Every Time My Bum Gets Cold

Another poem I found along with the last one which also makes you stop and think about how you treat people….

Every time my bum gets warm
they expose it to the cold.
and when I’m slipping into sleep,
they throw me in a mould.
Sometimes my head is in the air,
sometimes it’s on the floor;
and where they put my hands and feet
I’m really not quite sure!
I love the one who picks me up
and whispers in my ear;
but all the others seem to think I’m deaf,
or just not here.
They blot me out with blackness,
and stun me with bright white.
They stick my hands in soothing slime,
then stab them so I fight.
When my body shakes and shivers,
I giggle till I cry;
But I don’t know how it happens,
and no one tells me –
WHY?
by Christina Kirkman Ross.
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