The camera and being right.

image

Did you know how hard it was?
I’d see fingers, levelled, ready.
Accusing and righteous somehow
Something I could not explain.

At the dinner table i said this
I’m a lone individual that felt it
Loud and with story
Not hidden, not worried on.

There was a history on my mam’s side
They stored it in a drawerful
Mahogany and black
waiting, collect and remember the hue.

The memories he helped
Piled up and made marks.

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