I don't like my homes,
My mum with him,
My dad with her,
And me with my suitcase.
I don't like my step-dad,
Neither does my dad they had a fight,
My mum loves him,
And me with my suitcase.
I don't like my dad's flat,
Cathy calls me a spoiled brat,
But I can't afford anything her bairn can,
And me with my suitcase.
I do like our old house,
The cottage by the sea,
Where I used to play on the big oak tree,
I didn't need my suitcase.
YOU ARE READING
My Suitcase
PoetrySo this isn't the greatest poem ever, but it came from the heart :)