Rat soup

Rat soup for the bedwetter
that was me
I was three
had got through a year
in a childrens home
fighting older boys
who would swap my sheets
for their pissed ones
to come home
to a deranged family
looking after me
by beating
making me drink
rat soup
freshly boiled
from rats
caught in the garden
every time I wet the bed
I’d hide behind the sofa
they’d drag me out
by my heels
and force it on me
if I didn’t drink it
a beating
if I did
they’d mock me
‘he drinks rat soup
for wetting the bed’
my mum had run away
my dad worked all the time
though he did find me one night
changed my sheets
but still they beat me
to drink
rat soup
a level of cruelty
to a child
missing his mum
his dad
that I still can’t name
put any meaning on.

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