IDEAL

I can see that wheelchair pushing future
Creeping up on me,
Rolling closer
Every day;
Nobody thinks of us
Who are left to pick up the pieces
Of a broken back.

So we plod on like Humpty’s faithful
Foot soldiers attempting
To glue you
Together again,
And anybody left to
Encourage our efforts should be
Fallen in,

But they’re too busy rebuilding their
Own bodies, and keeping
Their parts separate
From each others,
To know if somebody else
Needs more care and attention
Allocating to their clots.

And when they do fall down their hill,
And their former corner
Pieces mingle with yours,
Don’t call me,
For I’ve spent too long looking
At the box art and imagining
How you should look.