The Lost

This is my message to the world
who would not listen to my pleas;
this is the last surrender of the will,
before the drowning in the seas.

I cannot think of any else,
for pain drowns thought, and wracks the mind,
the trembling would not stop nor pause,
I wish the final sleep that binds.

I wish for silence, and for peace,
for I’ve been broken past recall.
i look before me, but the path –
there is no path i see at all!

I stand with cut and bleeding feet,
i cannot take another stride;
i did not wish these wounds that bleed,
But here they are, and they abide.

I wish for time to heal this soul
that now i fear might heal no more,
and so i turn back from the world
that did the deed, from skin to core.

There are no rhymes to write again,
the poet’s gone and run away;
there are no songs, and no more lays,
the minstrel’s left and would not stay.

I drag these fingers and this pen,
one last preamble must be left
to tell the tale of this lost soul:
pathetic fool, scarred and bereft.

There is a point of no return
beyond which none may be reclaimed;
today i’ve reached that place, and yet
i hesitate, and lay no claim.

I stare across this dark abyss,
one fall to end a lifetime’s pain;
i wait redemption, but that is
a fruitless wait and with no gain.

I’ve cried enough, i’ve tears no more,
no voice, no strength, no courage here.
i take one look back, and with a sigh,
i plunge fore’er, and disappear.

–undated, probably around 2006, when i was in the pit of despair.


2 thoughts on “The Lost

  1. Oh, God! You scared me half to death myself, just love the rapier twist ending (/sarcasm) that you wrote this several years ago! While reading, I’m thinking, “omg, I’ve just come back to his blog after all this time passed, declare how happy I am [in earlier poem’s comment] to see he’s back to writing again, and now I’m sensing my own bad timing, thinking this was your most recent – and last! – missive to the world! I was holding my breath, guerdon, from the end of the 2nd stanza to the ‘finish line’ where you nonchalantly mention this was written in 2006!

    Your previous dispair has caused my present state of same; you naughty thing! ;> *spank, spank*

    Aside from the fright I just experienced, I was able to digest how affective this poem actually is – in grabbing the heart out of one’s chest and slinging it across the room into the opposite wall evoking a sickening sort of *s-s-s-thwak-k-k-klunk-p-s-s-s-s-th* sound as it hit the floor, and writhed awhile before keeling over with its last gasp. Yup, pretty darn convincing, guerdon..

    Some day I may try to explain how this poem affected me, but for now I just want to say I’m happy you’re back to writing and I’ll be checking back here more frequently, so don’t pull any surprises on me, okay? I predicate this coming year is going to be your best yet. Please stay alive to enjoy its unfolding, dear..;>

  2. haha! i wil ldo my best to stay alive, janet… especially with a reader like you… 🙂

    i appreciate your comments… but that spank hurt… 😦

    i guess i deserved that… i was really out-of-touch with the world when i wrote this… but never seriously suicidal… i’m not that type, i think.. 🙂

    as long as i can write, i can channel my sorrow here and i get by…

    luck to us both this year, dear.

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