He Writes

On a council estate in Neath In a flat that lies beneath Another above he sits and writes About his unexceptional life He writes about a broken home Of broken dreams and broken bones Of days gone by and of days to come Through the eyes of another lost and weary son Innocence lost, so what? It happens every day A lot, what more can you say? Its part of growing up, the day you look back at your mistakes, that day you sit and wonder hey, what went wrong? As a single tear runs down your face …It’s too late He writes, pours out his hopes and dreams Just regurgitated from off the movie screen Re-enacting Countless thoughtless movie scenes The generic lives of these thirty-something ‘teens’ He writes of his worries and his fears His regrets, his distance from his peers His world forever changing more and more His life, unexceptionally so… Innocence lost, so what? It happens every day A lot, what more can you say? Its part of growing up, the day you look back at your mistakes, that day you sit and wonder hey, what went wrong? As a single tear runs down your face …It’s too late