Never fall in love with a foster-child.
They force you into being a replacement Mum or Dad,
with ingenious ways of rejecting you,
before you can make them sad.
Avoid the self-harmers.
The rattle of the knife drawer becomes a warning sound,
they ruin all your towels,
and wear short sleeves all the year around.
Flee from all addicts
Whatever their poison, if it’s love or booze or pills,
their tears are only ever for themselves,
their promises unpaid bills.
Burn at the stake all those with baggage.
Why do they still talk about Fred or Bill or Sue,
and their children visit all the time?
Can you be sure they love just you?
Find someone safe, with money, and a sense of who they are…
With their unblemished skin and unblemished heart,
you can blame their boarding schools,
when it finally falls apart.
© James Nash
(Coma Songs, Grassroots Press, September 2003, 2006)