This poem is a suicidal poem. It implies a woman cheating on a man and the man is obsessing about being alone and thinking about his girlfriend in bed with another man. He feels left out and punishes himself internally. The result, slicing his wrists.
As I watch with the slightest temperament and rage,
cold touching steel cuts through my veins;
Slowly it moves its way through my skin,
faster and faster I think not to live.
I see them laying there side-by-side,
while patiently sharpness slices my pride;
Thoughts of her all but asleep in his bed,
leaves more to be more, I fade to be dead.
Each mourning minute appears a burial in life,
everywhere I see the blade of the knife;
Here I find replacement of fear,
end of me, end is near.
Soul to be blood dead in the wind,
sink to the ground and hide from man;
Isolate tears and kill for my own,
I blame you for my being alone.
Paul Hickey
11-14-11
No comments:
Post a Comment