checkout

There I was, my eyes closed, fighting to stop the ache in my legs, hoping the woman in front would get a bloody move on, keeping my face low to conceal my scars.
Did tell you about my ruined face, the way the skin flows in waxen rivelets?
I hide under a never-cut cutain of yellow hair but if i venture out for life's little essentials then everything is on show, pay yer penny the freak show's in town.
No - the grownups never look my way, wouldn't want to succumb to the temptation to stare.
It's the children that i hate. Their gaze penetrates me. Fascinated they are by me, they drink in the sight of me.

Like the child yesterday.
To her rich bitch mother, i'm invisible, not even a glance to register my existence in her white wine world.
Indulged, perfectly clean, perfectly superior, with private manners and a rich mummy and daddy, this child surveyed me as a diversion and entertainment.