Another poem from the old blog.
The Cobbled Stones
I lie here in the rain.
Cold, cobbled stones against my chest; each cobbled stone an ice cold knife.
Which slice straight through my soaking vest.
I can’t get up, and I will not stand.
There’s heavy burden that I bear.
Weighs down on me like half tonne weight.
A heavy weight I must endure.
I lie here weak and cold;
Can you hear the screams at night?
The stones dig in and cut my flesh.
Don’t bear to watch, to hold this sight.
Left here in a pool, my deep red blood.
My once white vest a gory rag.
Now the only shirt I bear, a red flag I also wave.
But all it does, is droop and sag.
I am a bitter memory, regret.
Left on the cobbles, old and grey;
Never to be remembered.
Left to the side with no ones care; forcing to pray
Please God help me I’m broken,
A shadow of a man once whole.
Help me live and become again,
If not please rest my soul.
On these cobbled stones, where my body lay.
An old broken man left his blood red vest.
These cobbled stones on which he lived,
And where he does now rest.