The Wasted and The Redemption
(For the tomorrows that can never be)
by Kenny Wilson
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: A poetic story about a dying man and his inner child.
Swearwords: None.
Description: A poetic story about a dying man and his inner child.
‘How long does he have doctor?’
As long as it takes.
Why should I let him die,
when he never let me live?
‘He is in distress doctor.’
Yes he is crying.
For all the days he never let me have.
For all the air he never let me breathe.
For all the dreams he never let me touch.
For all those times denied me.
The days he tucked away,
with a promise for some other day.
For all that.
I give him life for a few hours more.
Time to feel regret.
Time for his tears,
Time to suffer the pain.
Time to suffer mine too,
and my pain is the greater.
It is time to know fear.
‘His heart seems strong doctor.’
I pump my anger into his heaving heart,
I pump my anger
through every vein, into every muscle, every joint,
every piece of him.
I make his painful groans sound like half words.
Tantalising but lost as a whisper.
Wasted words for a life
wasted.
But,
hold me,
hold me,
hold me.
As long as it takes.
Why should I let him die,
when he never let me live?
‘He is in distress doctor.’
Yes he is crying.
For all the days he never let me have.
For all the air he never let me breathe.
For all the dreams he never let me touch.
For all those times denied me.
The days he tucked away,
with a promise for some other day.
For all that.
I give him life for a few hours more.
Time to feel regret.
Time for his tears,
Time to suffer the pain.
Time to suffer mine too,
and my pain is the greater.
It is time to know fear.
‘His heart seems strong doctor.’
I pump my anger into his heaving heart,
I pump my anger
through every vein, into every muscle, every joint,
every piece of him.
I make his painful groans sound like half words.
Tantalising but lost as a whisper.
Wasted words for a life
wasted.
But,
hold me,
hold me,
hold me.
About the Author
Kenny Wilson was born and raised in Edinburgh’s Southside. Now in his sixtieth year, he describes himself as a writer, a dreamer and lucky.