Parched of memories
to call our own
It’s coming home.
Not to the imagined green
and pleasant land
But a sunburnt red
and white
face painted nation
The lies and truths
are coming home
chanted, invented,
spoken and broken.
For all to praise
our NHS,
at 70 years old
and see it
buried at 71.
This is no Love Island
but a state of
us and them
United for as long
as it took to be
defeated.
Its coming home
but only for some
Its coming home
but
only for them