A game of two halves

As a child-
there was a game I thoroughly enjoyed
called ‘Truancy’
a game for one or more players,
for ages 10-14 years usually

(although often I would take part alone)

a game-plan was required;
step-by-step instructions
where parental guidance was not advised

an operation that required a careful strategy,
as any slip-ups, could lead to quite severe punishment
from either a teacher or legal guardian
risky to say the least, but a right result if
completed unscathed

sometimes I would have to answer the
phone as my father, and sign letters
on behalf of my mother.

Like a self- certified sick note
in preparation from knowing I will be sick
with attendance.

but just the feeling of being free
from a uniform made from stereotyped material
with judgements hidden in the linings
tailored by peer pressure

Freedom-
from the nail that would carve a cross upon my forehead
from water bathed in faith;
with a large measure of religion!

A flavour-less cocktail-
which was not for drinking

forced to eat perfectly shaped circular pieces of flesh
(also known as bread)
washed down with raspberry flavoured blood

an effigy towered over me of death
crowned in thorns.
who wasn’t a vampire-
or a Zombie

...i think.
(which of course are myths of fantasy)

and after all that digestion of goodness
only to be sent to an office, where a
teacher dressed as a priest would
deliver a message made of fine-cane
across my hands, which only just a few moments ago
were pressed together delivering a
message to a higher source to request help
to keep children safe!

Did my words just disappear into thin air?
(I wondered)..

told that I would burn in hell;
or struck by a fork made of lightening
for my sins of non-attendance

that was the time I learned of irony!