thinking about it now in the solitude <br />of this poorly lit station i could never <br />have done it, to enter the lions den <br />with nothing but a controlled calm. <br /> <br />with a hand on the wall where your youngest <br />would close her eyes and fall giggling <br />into your arms you peered into the present <br />and saw nothing of your past. <br /> <br />the piano which you played <br />on your first date when she first heard <br />the appealing fragiltiy of your mind now gone, <br />replaced with a computer <br />which stared back with cold knowing. <br /> <br />The Scream had been silenced, <br />ripped from the wall, covered and <br />packed off to the big yellow box that <br />stands on the side of the moterway. <br />she'd always hated that picture said <br />it reminded her of the fragility inside you. <br /> <br />The curtains twitched on the other side <br />of the street, the shadow waiting for <br />the showdown, turning you raised your hand <br />and waved with the will of a winner. <br /> <br />Snapping a rotting flower from your once <br />front garden dropping it into the drain <br />you looked down upon the beaten lion <br />and smiled a sympathetic smile.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/into-the-lions-den/
