| The old man in the Home was feeling sorry for himself
When he said to no one in particular:
Another goddamn fucking week’s gone by
And I have little new to say, not even a lie.
Others might help you to your wheelchair
Or fetch your heating pads, prostheses, pills,
Or hearing aid, and your other gear and gadgets,
But it probably won’t be me.
I have too many aches and pains and abuses myself
To feel like abusing you or feel much sorrow for you
Or think of rescuing anyone from anything.
It’s all been said to me and I couldn’t afford to care—
I was promised no solution and No Rescue.
I may not be worse, but it hasn’t make me a better man,
At least I know that this is all that’s left
And as much as there ever will be.
rcs.
Current draft: 3/19/2010
Created on 3/10/2010 7:57 PM |
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)