Ha Home Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

It's a funny day to be candid,
a funny day to be
frank.
It's an odd day to be happy,
when the storm is brewing black.

Black brewing over Bradford,
Bradford brewing black.
My tears wishing to remember,
if I thought England could turn
back.

It's a funny odd day,
to be in my home town,
where im standing out so,
because my skin is not black.

I know one hundred years ago,
Blake wrote about the harlots,
and they exist here too now
and give my stomach knots.

It's not all one sided all this mess,
and I seldom can't helping thinking that
there's no difference in colour between the walls
and between the flying bats.

I'm looking at the rubbish
which I'd usually name litter
but I don't care as I am here
dont care and I am bitter.

I have lost all punctuation
punctuation in this poem
like when I was walking around not knowing
where in my home town I was going.