Wrinkles are short cuts over grass verges,
They are the pages turned back in old books,
So you don't loose your pages, your ages.
They are squints from sunny days.
They are giggles rolled out like pastry,
They are all the worries about the future and the regret of every sin.
They are tip-i-toed sorrows that drift on your chin.
They are GCSE maths
They are your future divorce,
They are the elbow grease of every battle fought.

The Council Estate Slag

I've done too much,
Much too young,
'Cause I'm married with a kid when I should be having fun.
You see,
I’ve got more going on up here,
Than you’ll have in your life
Because I’m more than a slag and I’m more than a wife!
I’m a scholar,
I’m a saint,
I’m a snake with frigging tits.
I’d sell me own Grammother, I’d chop a into tiny bits,
To get more money
To buy more drugs
To commit more crimes
To feed the kids that I love
AND I. do. love. them!
More than life it’self and I probably shouldn’t of had them cause I can barely look after myself.
But I’m here and its now and it’s certainly not a dream
And when I’m lying in bed...
Aye, Aye - I do want to scream
Because the Teletubbies are not much conversation for a twenty year old bride,
And the last time I had an adult conversation; I’ll be frank, I nearly cried.
And I know your probably wondering
Well where’s the bloody man?
And I promise you, I’ve got one,
And if you see him,
Would you let him know where I am!!
He’s no doubt back in Sunderland,
Living with his Mam.
Living the ‘hard done by’ life style just minus the fucking pram!
I know you want to judge me!
And you want to challenge what I’ve done
Cause without any maternal instinct, how can I be a good Mam?
But when they handed me my babbies,
Covered in me own muck
They were like angles just born from a garbage truck!
And I’m lonely and frightened and I’m clamming for shag
Because the doors are always open,
When your council estate slag!

Jessica Johnson Age 20