The Tiny Village
I live in a tiny village
in my head;
a tiny village with high walls
where I am alone and talk
to myself.
Nobody comes to my village.
Men with biros for guns
attack my village
and I try to keep them out.
Mostly I do,
I ignore them and they go away.
I talk to my father sometimes,
in his Tir Na Nog
but no friends come
and I just eat and sleep in the village.
My village is old and worn
but worse still my face
is invisible glass
in the mirror
so I no longer know
who I am.
When the night comes
the light goes
and the demons come
with needles for teeth
and lay down on my bed
so I sleep on the lounge
with the music on
so I don’t hear the growling
in the night.
Once, a man came to my village,
told me how it is a tiny village
and that I was once not so alone
but I didn’t believe him.
