With trousers too short , shoes too big

hair cut short like a fading wig

slowly he left the asylum gate

scars on his arms, still deeper in the heart

years of abuse had torn his soul apart

shuffling along, thousand yard stare

shell shocked, wounded beyond repair

like a rusty old bicycle or worn out leather chair !

Yet once a young boy, his mothers pride and joy

but ended up in care, an old man’s toy

passed around like a party game parcel

those that used abused still safe in their castle

a broken life, a fractured mind, but more unkind

all that look away- selectively blind ………………………………………..mark  bolton 2015