This poem is now on YouTube for viewing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSEhkZQOhKgAs always, all thoughts/replies are welcome. The man sat on the couch He was staring out the window It was a bright sunny day, Clear enough to see the mountains out west. There was a gust of wind that blew in, As his thoughts drifted to his heart... There were a handful of girls, Whom he thought he loved. He wrote about some in his notebook, And remembers the faces at times... Was the hurt caused by him or them? Sirens go screaming down the street, As his life goes into retreat. It's as if it were an omen, That the thought of love could be opened. The man sat there on his couch, A gun lie there on his lap. The bright sun felt like a slap to his face, The sun represents happiness but he felt disgrace. He gave his all to every girl, Always sharing a piece of his soul. Yet they've lied, cheated and hated. He's always shared his caring mind, Yet they've deceived, used and abused. Has it really come to this? Was heartbreak the ultimate killer? An alarm went off outside, His thoughts drifted to family. He remembered waking up to go to school, To be first met by a badgering family, All gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. His father sat aloof and angry, His mother cooked aggressive and in bitterness. His sister was a deceitful instigator. Off to school he'd go after an argument or two, Into school and abused by fellow students. Sticks and stones and the words always hurt, School bell rings and off to home for another debacle. So drained and depressed at the end of the day, Just to wake up to another of the same. Years went by with insane guilt, anger and hurt. An explosive release eventually occurred. Who is to blame? Is he? He sought out councelors and therapists for help, Explaining his life in uttermost detail. They'd never work and never had, Their opinion of him was more important than his own. Selfish, money hungry, textbook theorists! Medication was control but wouldn't work on him, He knew how to change and benefit the people, But it was too late, the world had already turned sick. He heard a churchbell in the distance, Again his thoughts faded to religion. When all else failed he sought the church, He eventually stopped when he noticed the competition and rivalry, Every one had their own sales pitch. So he turned to spirituality instead, Finding he was the twin of Christ. When worst was worst he cried to God for help, Never an answer was their in return, No hidden messages or deeper meanings to see. Again now with his finger on the trigger, He asked God one last time, more to himself, "What is the meaning of life, my life, our lives, When we're surrounded by such hate, Such vengeance?! The love is gone from this world." He then raised the weapon to his head, Pulled the trigger and the twin of Christ was dead. c. 2007
wow that really hit a soft spot...even tho i am only 15 i can relate to this guy in the poem a lot...its really well written and conveys emotion really well
I put this poem in video form recently and is now on YouTube. Again as always comments are very welcome https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSEhkZQOhKg
