Sunday, 12 March 2017

Sane And Able, But Banished

My pains in life are an open book.
My face lines have nothing concealed.
Walk past, give I that second look,
Horrified at the revelations revealed.

Could you use those lines to write
All of my violent angst and stresses,
While shaking inside with no respite,
Like my author wills and blesses?

Blessed me with little or no will,
As I am a puppet being mastered:
Preordained with mighty skill
By a Biblical Fatherless bastard.

Strong words I regrettably know
Will ruffle a few dove feathers,
But hardship runs so terribly slow;
A canter of our endeavours.

Yes I drank and was a drunk,
But did it numb the pain?
Like a wounded ship I sank
To rock bottom again and again.

Take his pen; can your ink flow
More gracefully than my before?
Take the present time to know,
Human nature at its deepest core.

Upbringing and peer pressure
Can influence, shape and form;
Individually can get the better
Off an innocent victim’s ‘norm’.

Superficial zombies like me,
Earth’s lonely streets engulf.
Stare hard and you might see
A lamb beneath a howling wolf.

If you could write my last chapter,
Would an understanding lady unfold?
And would we live happily ever after,
As my greatest love story ever told?

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017


The poem denotes mental illness.

The phrase ‘Biblical Fatherless bastard’ in the last line of the third stanza is indicative to the devil (please note, that I am not religious).

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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