Trevor Mcleod Poet Quatrain

Helpless

I had to write a helpless poem
that others couldn't stand
I had to write about their fear
that kept them running grand

I had to tell them that their fun
was coward to enjoy
I had to tell them that their friends
had joined them in a cloy

I had to say they never tried
to solve a problem yet
I had to say they often said
there's never time to get

I tried to say I'd help them out
but never knew my place
I'd only introduce myself
to friends who kept my pace

I wanted all my time to be
a service for my words
But often thought to spend my time
I'd have to be on sherds

To offer them a helping hand
I'd have to be half crazy
And only know to wait for them
in hopes they'd curb their lazy

They only go to wait for death
and any hope that's cozy
And only know to cling to rope
when hung for deaths more rosy

I wonder if they'll ever change
and hope they find their way
I'll offer up my services
when knowing them some day

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