An argument.
It started so small
I turn around and saw you in the hall
The step mum I knew and hated
Just how long had you waited?
How much of this argument had you seen?
My brother had stopped shouting. He was clean.
She didn't see him shout
Or in desperation cried out
Because obviously he's too perfect
Was that argument really worth it?
My phone confiscated:
No comforting music-
The welcoming friend who doesn't offend
That has been there in the past and always will be there
To have a soft touch and light those eyes
But most of all- to stop me dying
No contact to friends to persuade me to stay
No gentle words of encouragement
But if a message does appear
Will the first person to see it feel any fear?
The step-mum.
That I may die
That I may go to heaven
Join the angels
Or is that what she wants
No phone= no music= no contact to friends= no more life.
My brother knocks on the door
No answer from within
Maybe he thinks I'm dead
Maybe he'll open the door to see my tear-streaked face.
The footsteps turn and go the other way.
Maybe if he'd have opened the door I'd have stayed
To see the sad apologetic face and a warm hug to cheer me up
But I just guess everyone wanted me dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poems with a twist
PoetryWhen I get to my lowest I write these. Let's hope I never have to use them. (Or not) If you are a lucky enough to be part of this (you will know if this applies) , then congratulations, your existence has made a big enough effect on my life to be me...
