Personal Porcelain

They aren't mine.

I've owned them now for eighteen years.
I earned them but they weren't won.
A pair of old front teeth veneers.

They weren't there.

My friends did run.
I'm left outside in an unknown dark.
The odds weren't fair.
Twenty five to one.

They rushed me from a nearby park.
His hand grabs my throat, I follow suit.

He holds his hand loose, I squeeze mine and prepare. It won't be long till that inevitable Boot.

I laid the first blow.

And then realise.
I'm drunk and alone.
He has twenty four guys.

I pick him up shouting.

I DON'T WANT TROUBLE! PLEASE, LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M JUST A YOUNG GUY AND WANT TO GO HOME!

First in is his brother, he swings and I duck.
Seventeen years old and ready to die

Why did he start this?
I must have bad luck.

Wrong time, space and place.
They don't give a fuck.

I mange to stay on my feet for a while, blows reign down blood mixing with mud.

A white flash and I'm out.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

I open my eyes to all their surprise.
They thought I was dead.

And so I should be.
They jumped and stamped all over my head.

They still aren't mine but I wear them with pride.

I got out alive.

With a smile I can't hide.