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Broken Crutches

The room was crowded, the mourners mourned you,
lovers laughed, the angels scorned you.
I sat front row, naked in the ashes,
as if I could protect you.
I didn’t know what else to do,
it’s all I ever knew.
But, I can’t help you now,
and you can’t help me now.
Please pray for me, baby
and I will pray for you.
Please, if they will hear you.
It’s the last time I may stare at you,
without closing my eyes.
Behind my eyes is the dark night,
where you brought our soul,
collapsed and unsupported.
tho safe behind the wall you built,
with your silver spoon and heroin mortar.
That wall I hate, so much,
that never let in the light.
The wall no man could touch.
No, I can’t condemn you for being like me,
we all die by our own hand.
Some quickly.
Some slowly.
Pray for me, baby,
and I will pray for you.
Please, if they will hear you.
Beyond the wall,
flamingos swarm the sky, like fire falls from Heaven.
With God at our side, we walk into the sun.
The dream we live, is endless.
And I need you, so much,
and you are there.
You always were; always will be, I know.
And that dream is for you now.
Please, pray for me, baby,
and I will pray for you.
Please, if they will hear you.
I hold my breathe and close my eyes,
and sit through every spiritual meeting,
mute, as I ponder loves sad question.
I beg the answer from our Creator,
and a quick fix from the mechanics.
I beg love from broken, nameless strangers…and wait.
I wait for you to come through the closing door, each night.
I wait for the morning you are lying beside me again.
O’ if I could just buy back one day,
I would make it a day of understanding,
listening, touching, believing.
If I could change your mind,
I would hold back that bitter clock,
I would light the trees,
and dust off the vanilla pages of our youth…and sing.
But, if convinced that you are right,
Iwill stay with you to the end,
And I will be there for you.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
I will hold your hand as it slowly cools,
and wash your face with tears.
At sunset, I’ll rise up against the dawn,
Iwill stand on my own tomorrow,
tho’ the Devil meets me there.
Please, pray for me, baby,
and I will pray for you.
Please, if they will hear you.

W.H.Dietrich

Broken Crutches

W. H. Dietrich

Boca Raton, United States

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

Semi-fictional story of a young lover who committed died of an intentional Heroin overdose and the loss of one who loved her.
Dedicated to Cain, Elija and all those who helped prop me back up on my own two feet, and all those who have gone before me.

Artwork Comments

  • lisameryl
  • W. H. Dietrich
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