The Cowardly I

As I crept along the narrow corridor,
Each footstep seeming louder than the one before,
I thought I should only have a few seconds more,
As I hastily pushed open the well oiled door,
That I had sneakily greased the night before,
So to ease my escape as I could take no more,
So far I could still hear the rattle of her snore,
As I slipped unnoticed through the open door,
No more, of this dullness could I endure,
Just a stairwell now stood between me and freedoms lure,
I looked back as I felt a presence at the door,
Nothing there, as there had been several nights before,
I avoided each step that could wake the sleeping whore,
Still holding my breath as I made for the door,
To rid myself of this insufferable bore,
No more of this life that had become such a chore,
Palm trees and cocktails and steak galore,
My future so much brighter, of this I was sure,
No remorse as I could see what I had fought so hard for,
Just the thud of my heart as I unlocked the door,
The air was fresh and smelled so pure,
No more, would I feel so trapped, now free to explore,
My toes trembling as I felt I had finally found my cure,
Feeling braver than a bullfighting matador,
I could almost hear the crowd begin to roar,
Then from beyond my shoulder, up the stairs, through the door,
As eerie a sound as ever heard before,
'I told you to put the bins out the night before'
'Then you wouldn't be up now at quarter past four! '
My gate crumbled as I slumped to the cold hard floor,
I could still run, but what the hell for,
'Ok darling, you're quite right' is all I could afford,
My heart breaking as I stepped inside and closed the door,
It would be another day and night before I could try once more

by Michael John Cook

Comments (2)

A feeling of guilt and fear comes over me, I begin to think of how dumb the action of self harm was. I wish to keep the way you write simple and humple but craft and talent show shines
Camilla, great poem, , , , , , , , , ,