I lived with mum then dad.

I grew up with dad,

then with mum,

then with dad,

and now with mum,

then back with dad,

but at mums house she had an ashtray full of little bits of trash and cigarette ash,

a hamster that bit through the metal parts of the cage and ran away,

at mums house it was noisy, small and hard to be apart of,

and at dads house we lived really far away.

I lived with mum,

then dad, then mum, then dad,

in a confusing juxtaposition inside a child’s brain,

when ever I was sick or ill I was sent my mums or nans way,

chickenpox so bad that I still have a scar on my skin, and tonsillitis every few months, meant I missed out on school again.

I lived with mum, then dad, then mum, then dad.

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