Bedsit by Robert Grant
Updated: Jan 3, 2019
Her bedsit is a place of solitude,
At least, a place for her to sit and hide.
Magnolia walls, painted rough and crude
And damp and mould that spreads across inside.
The winter’s coming on. She holds her breath
And wonders if she’ll be there when she’s old,
Waiting as the walls ensnare her death.
She shudders at the thought of being cold.
A troubled youth had seen her move in here.
Her father’s hand, her mother’s scalding ways
Had brought nothing to her but pain and fear
And now she sits and weeps most of her days.
This bedsit, in a small provincial town,
Where all the local gossip gets her down.
Robert Grant is a poet and spoken word artist based in Brighton. He took to poetry after being diagnosed with a debilitating illness, fibromyalgia, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Having a history of homelessness and substance misuse, (now fully recovered), he often writes about these subjects. He believes that poetry should be accessible and entertaining for all. You can read more of his work at the links below, as well as hearing him read on his YouTube page, listed below. He likes cheese. A lot.