Poetry

Afterthought

He’s just an afterthought
if he’s lucky
Not even that sometimes
yet he gives his heart
and soul to all

But he sheds tears
in the stillness of
the night
Of a suffering and
loneliness
unknown by most

A broken heart
A soul torn to shreds
Left alone
neglected
and lost
Forgotten

He sits with
a tumbler in hand
The glass almost empty
Legs running
down the glass
Running away from him

Like everyone else does
eventually
His glass empty now
Like his heart
as he sits
in the dark
waiting for the
light
the doorway to
somewhere else

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Published by

Darren Greenidge

I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life. I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones. Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible. My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love. I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''

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