16 shadows – self-harm

WHEN I was twenty-three, and full with pride,
I took my pleasures casually and ran
Off to the next adventure, or romance,
And thought I was a special sort of man.

I TRAVELED where I wanted, stayed as long
As I thought wise, given I didn’t think;
I tried on new ways I could fool the girls,
Or drowned myself in drink on stinkin’ drink.

YES, I was twenty-three, a magic age,
And handsome as I ever was, I guess:
My eyes were glazed with arrogance, and I
Left others to clean up each brand new mess.

JUST two years later, pills clutched in my fists
The blood dripped down from where I’d slit my wrists

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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