We march for her

March you left me cold and raw 
Tired eyes glued to the bathroom floor 
My head heavy with visceral fear
As the mirror reflected my broken stare 
It could have been me left for dead
Or you sis, gone without a trace or thread 
Not even safe on my own street
Is that not the epitome of defeat?
This was the month to celebrate
But instead we were forced to relegate
It's been tough
Really hard, really rough.
If we want a world with potential
Then a bit of humanity is essential.

(A poem I wrote after Sarah Everard went missing)