Friday, 28 February 2014

An old poem I wrote

A friend of mine asked if I still had the short story I wrote in school that I referred to in my last blog posting but I had to respond that, although I thought I had kept it, the story has become lost in the mists of time.  I have tried to duplicate the original story on a couple of occasions but it proved impossible to duplicate emotional heart that the original piece had so I abandoned any future efforts.  I did, however, write a poem about that particular incident in my life and so I present it here as my friend showed an interest in wnating to read it.

A Cry for Help

‘A cry for help’ is what it was called
The story of a desperate man
Whose life so full of sorrow
Ends with razor cuts in a lonely hollow.

A cry for help written in metaphorical blood
His soul laid bare on lined paper.
The tortured psyche of a desperate boy
Hoping for someone to understand
And maybe lend a helping hand.

A cry for help just left unanswered
Left alone to carry this burden
For too long, too long.
The scars left unattended
The pain grows into undreamed of agonies
It ends with a handful of pills.

A cry for help that you ignored
The pain you could have eased
But you were blinded by ignorance
The clues you did not see
That the man in the story I wrote
Was merely a reflection of me.

© Myles Cook, 2005, 2006

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