I Need Some Help To Help Myself
I’m yelling out a name.
by Sam Price
I don’t want to play this game.
Dry, wet tears stain my face.
I keep going; it’ll never give up the chase.
I sent a message by postal elf,
I need some help to help myself.
The road is long.
I’m not that strong.
I keep searching for another.
But the road is dangerous with a shark pit on one side and a cliff of knives on the other.
In the distance the finish line appears.
Relief washes over me; washing away the years.
I make a run.
No more need to be glum.
I dart, I dash, I run.
All for another’s fun.
When I approach the line, away go my fears.
But they suddenly return when the finishing line disappears.