By Stanley Collymore
What is it that you really want from me? For you’ve never
said, and having wracked my brains for all it’s worth to
find out I still don’t know nor dare to claim that I
understand. And why these silly games of yours
that you insist on playing, especially since
I’ve made it abundantly clear to you in
words and gestures that I’m no
longer interested in you and
much less so in what you’re up to?
Yet incredibly you persist in
carrying on as though
nothing has
changed.
So please take my advice and stop all this nonsense
that you’re indulging in before your behaviour
leads to even greater harm than what it has
already caused; and additionally with the
grave possibility of you even unconsciously,
if you persevere with it, of creating for
yourself an altogether untenable
situation from which you’ll
almost certainly experience
considerable difficulty in freely
extricating yourself; if at all. And frankly,
to sum it all up in a simple and rather
straightforward sentence: “You’re
desperately in need of quite
serious psychiatric help! ”
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 October 2013.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem