‘Can we not fight tonight?’ are the words that echo through the wall
It’s the third time this week and I think their marriage is in turmoil
The kids are sent outside to play whilst they scream out every fault
In pyjamas at midnight whilst the secrets come tumbling out the vault
The boy stares looking for an escape as his mother breaks the plates
His father’s no good with native tongue so his daughter helpfully translates
They’re all in the kitchen brawling they don’t notice that the boy goes missing
And when his body is found three days later they spend all their time reminiscing
‘A sweet child’ the papers write whilst his parents praise his quiet sensibilities
And once again their talking covers up and glosses all over his vulnerabilities.
– Little Ginge x
Gingers Appellations 