I didn't

[Psimon]

I was a burden on my family

I was a burden on the world

I took and gave nothing in return

I gave and expected the world in return

Would the world miss me when I slipped away?

Some might have, but then only for a season.

Most would have shown me the door,

Smiling as they waved goodbye.

 

I failed to love God

I failed to love my wife

I failed to love my children

I failed to love.

I failed to live.

 

Some may say I was selfish

And they may well be right

Some may say I was gutless

And they are probably right

Some may say I was a loser

And they are certainly right

 

I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag

I couldn’t sing a note

I couldn’t turn the other cheek

I couldn’t give till it hurt

I couldn’t

I just couldn’t.

 

So I didn’t.

 

This is the beginning of the end

Depression

Drugs

Doctors

Life in 3D

 

Raise your hand and lose it all

Hold it inside and lose it all

Either way, you lose.

 

This is the end of the beginning

Paranoia

Paracetemol

Psych-wards

Life on P.

 

© Mike B 02 Aug. 2006

[Chanz]

Wow. That was moving. It really connected with me. It was quite powerful.........

[WrenWind]

*Hugs* glad to know you are still writing. Missed you.

 

Wren

[Salinye]

Always nice to see you, Psimon. :0) It's apparent you haven't lost your poetic touch.

 

~Salinye

 

 

*Hugs* glad to know you are still writing. Missed you.

 

Wren

[Parmenion]

Great to see you still haven't lost your touch Psimon. While this is a rather unusual style of poem from you it nonetheless its well written and an enjoyable read. For me it is the antithesis of this old gem (sorry in advance for spamming your thread ):

 

[iF]

 

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

 

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

 

--Rudyard Kipling