The Last of This


Winded I am...
Who is here to help me...
All who claim they love me are nowhere near my screams...
I have missed your touch and phone calls too...
Not a word from the ones I thought I knew...
Never a nod, nor a kind word for a passing old friend...
For it is the new ones that bring life...
It is always the new ones that cast the most hope in the eyes of
those who watch...
They watch waiting to be fed...
Lies?  Hope?  Who cares?
It's all the same...
We flash the new around like we were once lonely...
Like we were once unhealthy and dead...
Maybe we were, or wish it that way now...
This is your prize, and with each breath you might forget my name...
But I will never forget yours...

By:  Gary Forsyth