There was nothing beautiful left for me <br />Beyond the front door of my imprisonment <br />There wasn’t a soundproof booth, where I could scream <br />No safe haven, where I could protect those others, <br />Who were vulnerable to the feel of my tremendous pain <br />Or empathetic to my apparent chronic suffering <br />I needed Love without contractual obligations <br /> <br />I needed an eclipse of both the moon, and the sun <br />A cataract to cover and cloud my myopic eye… <br />That I might not see what, I had once viewed as poetry <br />Live long enough to become a sickness of the heart <br />Nay did I want to become, this toothless old man <br />Who, the cancer slaughtered, then fully devoured <br />Until the only evidence left, were my fingerprints <br />On an empty shot glass and the harsh trigger of a gun<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-loves-a-good-story/
