Probably my first attempt at writing a 'true' poem (my other stuff is always intended to be songs so I write them differently). Sorry it's so long, I didn't want it to be but thats just the way things go. C4C of course.

On reflection...

He's had little spiders drawn
towards him since he was a kid.
Heckling and poking him with
ridiculously skinny legs.
A little touch just enough
to make one itch themselves,
creating red marks and possibly
blood stains on the white carpets.

He wanders back and forth
and wonders if there's anyone
worth calling, and there isn't.
So the phone jumps up and down
from its feeble, twisted lead,
like a bungie jumper about to die.

Out of touch and out of time.
So the unused kitchen scizzors
are coming in handy after all.
And the edge is oh-so close and
stones are loose under his feet.

And it begins;

C u t





He sits down on the floor, with no
puny little bugs crawling around.
But he's locked the doors and he had
no keys for them to start off with.

He's sat next to the old mirror
and staring into his own grey eyes,
Which haven't seen enough light, yet,
look like they're past their sell by date.

The reflection wearily showing itself
makes him ponder on why he didn't
just ignore the little spiders with
those ridiculously skinny legs.

He looks back with a renewed hope
only to find, with a wilted heart
A door, closed, always and forever.
This is a pretty good poem, I think the stories paced well, it doesnt get too hung up on the one idea but it moves on.

The bungie jumper bit is a bit of a crap similie though.

Are the spiders supposed to be a metaphor for bullies or something, if not then ignore everything i just said because I probably didnt get any of it