PoetsPub collection - September 2016

Threadbare carpet paced to ruin

pausing to listen, fists clenched

Don't do this to me, do not do this

a liquid blur quickly blinked away

Another pause, the door opens

two faces exchange emotions

one pleading, one disturbed

a hand gesture a consolatory signal

Anguish roiling up from an inner hell

placating words, but distance kept

as an angry fist lays waste to a section of plaster wall

the doctor flinches and backs away

from a demonstration of long suppressed rage

It was inevitable, terminal was always on the table

yet no satisfaction in knowing

no thought of ever giving up the battle

"It is not fair! Damn you!"

A comforting hand and the room is entered

left to stare at the end of a futile war

knees bend and the body wracked with tears

then... the door closes