Unconscious Sufferer Poem by Robert Sheridan

Tossed his hands in the air
Had it up to here, would no
longer take the time to lay
one hand near her; she sat
down to cry, was looking
for sympathy, but it was no
where to be found, he closed
the door behind him softly;
more softly than she had
ever treated him - lied from
the start; was not love at
first sight, but supposedly
fell in love over time; he
often suspected that she
also cheated; the irony
was that she threw him
out, with nothing more than
the clothes on his back -
that's gratitude for twenty
eight years, and on top of
that she played on her own
family's sympathy; but the
one that was really hurt
was the son - he was the
unconscious sufferer.


'2008'