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A poem written By the Man who left the Bar
I stand here
Alone
On this wonderful spring morning
Around me
Birds are singing
Flowers blooming
The sun beats down
Through a clear blue sky
Yet my body shivers
Shakes from the cold
Inside
I see only dark clouds forming
Winter's fingers
Reach up around my feet
Dragging me forward
Dragging me to the one place that I have to go
Before me lies a hole
Six feet deep
Four feet wide
And seven feet long
A brand new gash into the Earth's flesh
I stand here at the very edge
Looking down into this empty space
Crying
Knowing that in a few short hours
This hole will be vacant no more
I am the reason it is here
Two days ago it started
I will never forget that morning
I woke up as usual
The monkey beating at my forehead
The world sliding back and forth
Fighting my way from the bedroom
I picked up the small glass
The hair of the dog
My tonic to wash away the pleasure
The escape from the night before
I turned on the television
Just to have another voice
To help me through the fog
There was the reporter
Standing in the front yard of a house
A house three blocks from mine
They spoke quietly
Reverently
Told of a family's loss
A little girl had been coming home
Coming home in the darkness from a sleep-over
Her parents were awakened
Not by the sound of her at the door
But by smashing metal
And the roar of an engine
As a car sped away
The glass fell from my fingers
My life shattered along with it
As it crashed upon the floor
I didn't need to go look at the car
My mind knew what was waiting in the garage
What horror waited there for my eyes to see
I went there anyway
Sat there for hours
Alone in my private hell
And cried
Yesterday was nothing less than a battle
I went from gun to my head
Praying on my knees
To trying to sell myself on the idea
That maybe no one would ever find out
Every mirror in the house is shattered
The bullets of the gun lie on the floor
The house and I both look the same
Shattered and broken on the inside
Finally I came to this decision
I came here this morning
Stood here at the edge of this hole
I pour what is left of my last bottle into its gaping mouth
And with the bottle's last drop
So goes my life
So goes my soul
I don't know what they will do to me
Lock me away forever
Take my life
To me now it does not matter
My future I leave here along with what's left of my heart
Hopefully to give company
To the innocence that was taken
And put here by me
They might someday forgive me
God may find a way to forgive me
But here I stand
Just a reflection of a man
For I know the day will never come
The day that I
Can forgive
Myself
Ed Roberts 4/29/03
I have tried so many times to try and write this poem. Today the words were there. This piece is the other side, a reflection of my poem There was a Man. I try and see the world through the eyes of others. Thank God these eyes will never be mine.
Alone
On this wonderful spring morning
Around me
Birds are singing
Flowers blooming
The sun beats down
Through a clear blue sky
Yet my body shivers
Shakes from the cold
Inside
I see only dark clouds forming
Winter's fingers
Reach up around my feet
Dragging me forward
Dragging me to the one place that I have to go
Before me lies a hole
Six feet deep
Four feet wide
And seven feet long
A brand new gash into the Earth's flesh
I stand here at the very edge
Looking down into this empty space
Crying
Knowing that in a few short hours
This hole will be vacant no more
I am the reason it is here
Two days ago it started
I will never forget that morning
I woke up as usual
The monkey beating at my forehead
The world sliding back and forth
Fighting my way from the bedroom
I picked up the small glass
The hair of the dog
My tonic to wash away the pleasure
The escape from the night before
I turned on the television
Just to have another voice
To help me through the fog
There was the reporter
Standing in the front yard of a house
A house three blocks from mine
They spoke quietly
Reverently
Told of a family's loss
A little girl had been coming home
Coming home in the darkness from a sleep-over
Her parents were awakened
Not by the sound of her at the door
But by smashing metal
And the roar of an engine
As a car sped away
The glass fell from my fingers
My life shattered along with it
As it crashed upon the floor
I didn't need to go look at the car
My mind knew what was waiting in the garage
What horror waited there for my eyes to see
I went there anyway
Sat there for hours
Alone in my private hell
And cried
Yesterday was nothing less than a battle
I went from gun to my head
Praying on my knees
To trying to sell myself on the idea
That maybe no one would ever find out
Every mirror in the house is shattered
The bullets of the gun lie on the floor
The house and I both look the same
Shattered and broken on the inside
Finally I came to this decision
I came here this morning
Stood here at the edge of this hole
I pour what is left of my last bottle into its gaping mouth
And with the bottle's last drop
So goes my life
So goes my soul
I don't know what they will do to me
Lock me away forever
Take my life
To me now it does not matter
My future I leave here along with what's left of my heart
Hopefully to give company
To the innocence that was taken
And put here by me
They might someday forgive me
God may find a way to forgive me
But here I stand
Just a reflection of a man
For I know the day will never come
The day that I
Can forgive
Myself
Ed Roberts 4/29/03
I have tried so many times to try and write this poem. Today the words were there. This piece is the other side, a reflection of my poem There was a Man. I try and see the world through the eyes of others. Thank God these eyes will never be mine.
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A poem written By the Man who left the Bar
A poem written By the Man who left the Bar