Why dont you just finally,
Twist the knife you’ve stuck in me,
Watch the life drain out of me,
And wash your hands until they bleed?

All the pain you’ve given me,
Can finally drain away with ease,
But I can’t sustain this injury,
While you maintain the olive tree.

Cant you find the subtlety,
Of disinclined humanity,
To tow the line reluctantly,
As far as it can get from me?

A thing living opportunistically,
Too weakened by your own recovery,
A wisdom lost on all who see,
The lies of a wise sobriety.

If there’s a real bone in your skeleton,
Any semblance of what is a gentlman,
Any scrap of yourself that is genuine,
This appeal has been sent to him.

3 thoughts on “Skeleton.

  1. A story from my past.
    I knew someone who held false hope of returning to ‘what was’.
    Cruel was that ‘what was’ yet there they were always hoping the next time it would be better.
    Her friends tried to tell her, she would agree to their faces, then carry on, holding onto the dream that was ‘what was’.

    The end was sad as ‘what was’ got bored and the hope was brutally and publicly dashed. Luckily by word and not an act.
    Only by then it was too late.
    She never allowed ‘what was’ to end in her mind and she ended up as a section 8.

    That story became a very successful training aid.
    It helped others to stop thinking about ‘what was’, to accept ‘what is’ and to move onto ‘what’s next’.

    As for our section 8?
    She is still around today. A gentle soul who is now over ‘what was’ and the last time I saw her she was still looking for her ‘what’s next’ as a happier soul but this time with both eyes open.