Self Pity

by Kevin Sinclair

Casually he sits in his arm chair
Strikes a match and lights a fag
Laying back and staring into the air
He has that long awaited drag
Man oh it's been a great day
Plenty to do, plenty to say.

Sitting there thinking aloud
The heartbreak comes back to play
Into his mind it does crowd
Was it something wrong he did say
The sorrow, the anger and the joy
The pain, the anger and the blame
Coming back so as to destroy
Now it just doesn't feel the same.

Now in his attempts to unwind
Things have turned out so bad
How can fate be so unkind
How can things have turned out so sad
The cigarette has burnt down to his fingers
Slowly he turns and puts it out
But the smoke in the air still lingers
And he wonders - what's it all about?

In himself the sorrow lies
Together with the anger and blame
Slowly he breaks down and cries
Things just don't feel the same
Suddenly he comes to and realises
It's himself that he dispises.

Unable to accept what he sees
Many thoughts run through his head
Contemplating he stares at the trees
Now he knows that he wants to be dead.

At the grave side the people wondered why
But only one person really knew him well
She knew the reasons by which he did die
She knew but she wouldn't ever tell.

This poem is from a collection of poetry by Kevin Sinclair. For a listing of other poems by Kevin published on this site, click here.