Lewis Raynes Poet Quatrain

Her Poem For Help

She wrote her poem, with a slick razor blade, 
Down the length of her thighs,
A poem about feeling erased and lost, 
Where nobody cared if she dies,

And so many tears went into her verse, 
Her verse that was coloured in red, 
With short lines and long, small, wide and deep, 
Revealing the moments she bled,

And the reviews flew in, judging her work, 
Saying her poem was a dull cry of despair,
Ignoring the meaning behind what she wrote, 
Her needing their help and their care,

Then she mistakenly thought she knew what to do
To forever be left right alone,
And she wrote her last verse on a little tin plate, 
That now sits atop her headstone.

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Paul Callus February 18, 2018 at 8:24 AM This is sad and touching, Lewis. People in similar situations need love, help and understanding, but their messages often go unheeded. You conveyed your message with expressive, yet compassionate words. ~ Regards // paul Lewis Raynes February 18, 2018 at 6:30 PM Thank you Paul, I think there are lots of people who bleed to feel something these days, screaming out for help, for a touch, for talk, thank you for visiting

Judith S February 14, 2018 at 7:50 AM Wow Lewis! Such a sad and tragic thing indeed. Very well written! ~Judy Lewis Raynes February 14, 2018 at 5:11 PM Thank you Judy, it's such a common thing and so sad and frustrating

Line Gauthier February 13, 2018 at 9:41 PM Great poem about "le mal de vivre" - literally translated to... for some people it hurts to live. Really well done, Lewis. Lewis Raynes February 13, 2018 at 10:44 PM Wow, spot on Line, thanks for this :)

Vijay Pandit February 13, 2018 at 7:51 PM You depicted this theme with brilliant lines..sad ending, but that is the reality. Expertly written, Lewis. Lewis Raynes February 13, 2018 at 7:54 PM thanks Vijay, so sad that this is so prevalent.