Tales of a Poor Poge by Richard Palmer - HTML preview

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JIMMY

 

The tempests of these shadow days blow

Lonely in their coming

For you, alone and drunk
Waiting and wanting to die,
Pain is your dull god,
And mocks the unvoiced petition
Haunting your eyes.

These words hold no salvation
Or promise of peace, hope or joy
Only that we may see a futile end in yours

And thus begin to care.