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Sep 2017
I sit and watch the walls
Of loneliness slowly closing in
Drawing in like a cold
Windy, rain-filled night
I can't ever remember feeling
So utterly alone
So completely adrift
From everything
And everybody
I think of all
The opportunities untaken
The abilities wasted
People shrugged off, blanked
Nonchalant
With all the flaming arrogance
Of one who thinks that
He is born lucky
Special
To whom the rules do​ not apply
The kind who thinks he will
Win the lottery
Without even buying a ticket

But I wasn't born lucky
And I'm not special
Failure hits me just as hard
As anyone else
And it keeps on hitting
I'm like the boy who cried wolf
I pushed people away
Not thinking that one day
They would take me at my word

And now it's like I'm on a ship
Condemned to drift
Upon a sea of nothingness
Unable to dock at any port
Whilst food and fresh water
Steadily run out
Holes appear in the sails
Water slowly seeps into the hull

I have to choose, either
A sad slow lingering starvation
Or swiftly and sadly
Walk the plank

I sit and pray
Up in the crow's nest
I keep watch and hope
Someone please calls
The coastguard
An old poem, but I think that it's a good one.
Ian Lewis Copestick
Written by
Ian Lewis Copestick  45/M/Stoke On Trent
(45/M/Stoke On Trent)   
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