There was a night I spent in a room alone with a woman whom poured gasoline over her head and set herself on fire
All through the night she cried and moaned
Making the fact that she was forced to keep her life more bitter
Bandages pulled at her wounds and scissors were needed to remove them
I could not point her out today for she to me now would be unrecognizable
Laying in a bed next to this woman for making the same attempt but with a bathtub and a toaster
Somehow us wanting to be apart strangely made us closer
The nurse came in to change the sticking bandages every few hours
Every time and for minutes later this poor woman would scream
I had a book of cowboy poems that they had provided for us to read
For when the nurses left the room and her groans of sorrow quieted down
I read this beautiful woman a poem to help her lay her head down
I sat reading to her all night
For I had nothing better to do
That’s when I realized that in this life all sorrows are the same
Her name or the place I can’t recall
And I’m not sure I can legally say
I will never forget that night that poetry gave me back my purpose in my life
And lifted someone’s spirt when we were both in hell
I will write forever so others can hear and feel poets story’s
I promise you it’s worth the while for those who think it’s boring