An attack and an old bint

You left me reeling; numb of my feelings,
But for one: fear.
As you breathe in oxygen,
Intoxicate, contaminate with your poison,
Then emit your antipathy.
Stalk the prey, separate the prospects,
Lock it in, prepare for attack.
I didn’t hear you coming,
But I felt your arrival;
A strike to the temple,
With a hurricane of force.
You snatched my bag away,
Jeered and sneered,
Taunt, belittle, mock,
As the stars plagued my eyes.
Your shriek summoned your gang.
Next – they all partook
In the offence,
Snapping and shouting;
Pushing me about
Like a solitary ragdoll.
You took my lunch,
Which I had joyously prepared;
Chicken, with a hint of grief,
On Danish white (without the crusts).
Then you fled, my sandwiches locked
In your cruel, fat mouths.
No one to help me, or bear witness,
Except that sour old bint
Who watched and laughed;
(But Winter will take her, so never mind)
I barely stood in my shame;
Even my breath abandoned me,
So I walked home, too scared to look behind,
In case I would see your face.
As I sit here writing this,
The clock ticks past three am.
I cannot sleep for you penetrate
My dream world, stalking me
And reminding me of the attack.
Do you know how awful it is,
My every breath being a consort
To an orchestra of torment?
I wish I could take a gun,
And spray your brains over the seafront.
Rid the world of your disease,
And put my mind at ease!
Oh, if only it was that easy!
At least you can take something away
From my harrowing tale.
Watch out for those fucking seagulls,
They’re nasty little shits!

Created: February 2014

This is a poem I wrote recounting a horrible experience. I was mugged by a pack of seagulls and, all jokes aside, it has left me with a fear of seagulls and the sound of wings. I flinch whenever they fly past me, and I get very anxious when I see them watching me from atop rooftoops. So I wrote this poem to express my anguish, as I was reading it at an open mic night with the ECWS (English and Creative Writing Society @ Aber).

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