A Dead Man’s Tale 

Once was a man that lived in a time 

Beneath a bridge, no one could find 

Hid himself beneath this bridge 

Concealing itself, behind a large ridge 

Nothing wrong with the man 

Far as anyone could tell 

Appearance at surface seemed so well 

No deformities, noticed upon his shell 

Only difference within this man 

His glands don’t discrete 

Veins hollow bands 

With no blood pumping within 

He questions himself and how he still lives 

But is he really living?  

A question often asked when he’d reflect 

Question is posed, answer always averts 

Concerted efforts 

To learn the girth of human worths 

Quite a large spectrum of emotions to birth 

Why don’t we start with disorders first 

A more perfect teacher, he couldn’t find 

These snakes could instruct  

While they dined 

On the souls of their class 

Lessons they taught, only add to conflict 

No escaping from this prison, within the addict 

Wondering each day, how to live in this skin 

Never worn with comfort 

Base desires always flirt 

The question he posed at the start of the tale 

Was he born with this affliction 

Was it learned from the tongue 

Of snakes that compel 

Never giving a chance 

To see if this life, could ever advance 

Passed past and to brighter pastures 

Up over that ridge 

Narcotics Anonymous?  

(lol JK)(Swear I’m sober, it just rhymed) 

The fear inside him, never allowing him to stray 

By the snakes at base, Hissssssing a kiss 

But if fear’s an emotion, how could he be dead? 

A dead man could never ascend 

The spectrum of emotion 

Excluding disorders 

If he felt fear inside 

And fear’s an emotion 

Who’s to say happiness can’t reside 

If only Moses, had revealed 

To part the sea 

The great chasm, the great divide 

So much distance between you and I 

Happiness, lies on the other side 

Up over that hill 

 Explore it he will 

Like that one guy, Bear Grylls 

If only he’d been born 

With the name of a beast 

But metal still 

Like a grill 

A name so cool, never a pause or a lull 

In conversation or survival alike 

No one would dare tempt him 

In fear of being impaled by his spike 

While optimism grew for the man 

His grades with the snakes 

Began suffering 

His Leal to them had started to fade 

Innovative ideas started to blaze 

What is the truth?  

He asked himself 

Is he dead inside?  

Did he blindly accept these snakes’ diatribes? 

Everything he knew, he learned right from the chute 

No evidence to refute 

Having accepted his demise, and given the boot 

To the first level of hell 

That is where he shall dwell 

A place where time stands still 

An escape from within?  

If he could congregate the will 

How could he know, for it’s never been tried 

Venturing past that ridge, where no one yet ride 

Accepting that he, was born to fight the good fight 

Never known love, or passion alike 

Accepting that life was a long path of strife 

Each hardship befallen his patience worn thin 

What am I doing here?  

How do I escape this sin? 

This thought, and this alone 

Separated him from the rest 

Because we are what our minds tell us to be 

Hope we think the best 

 

This man might have just been unique 

No telling feature on the outside,  

But heart concrete 

Other distinctive features must’ve come from within 

Never fit in, expelled to that bridge 

Spent most his life staring at the ridge 

And if you stare long 

Surely, the truth will reveal 

All this time, staring back  

 No longer concealed 

Finally able, to see what was always there 

People that loved him and cared 

Began to remember these people so well 

Memories fade in, is he under a spell? 

He was indeed, one the snakes had to sell 

For the story of his existence began from a point 

The snakes are remembered as the only voice he could hear 

Nothing was remembered before that foggy day 

The truth of his sorrow that beckoned his call 

Ignored for so long, he had forgotten the treasures he once hold 

Realizing then, this world he felt 

Was born from within 

The realm, lay not smelt 

This story was fabricated and fed from the snakes 

He thought they were his friends 

But, make no mistake 

The snakes fed on souls, and the good ones taste great 

This man was once happy 

Where did it abate? 

The demons outside that lurk in the dark 

Find their way inside, casting their shadows that murk 

Even the sharpest mind cannot escape 

No matter how hard, he jerks or shakes 

Influenced by one push in the past 

Of that needle, that enters the vein 

Only to find there is a clog in the drain 

The blood that once flowed and carried his high 

No longer getting by 

Insignificant, the high 

Blood, no longer pumping,  

The well run dry 

The rage that succumbed him 

Akin to the snakes, he had become 

Only time will tell if he can break from underneath their thumb 

This period of darkness, was born within 

Trauma from his past suffering 

From deep waters it surfaces like a sharks’ dorsal fin 

Image now, he sees it clear 

This is the tale of the man made of tin 

So soft was his will, so weak was his drive 

Blame can be placed in many places 

But his susceptibility to temptation 

Only the faintest amount of accumulation 

On that desk, where it was found 

When and where it came from 

Unknown to me 

Would’ve taken a test 

 

Always wanting, to fit in, passing on the sin 

I will fix myself later, but later never came 

Hard to make a change, when living in shame 

The can he kicked on down that road for so long 

Had finally stopped, and stopped fast it did 

The kid needed some medicine 

To wake from his walking slumber 

Returning to the past 

Of times when the love he felt would take him aback 

Finally, seeing the truth with both eyes 

He cried and he cried, wishing to die 

Had his life passed before eyes? 

Or was there still time? 

Was his spirit alive? 

The dark clouds that had surrounded him for so long 

Began to divide, the blood began to flow along 

For this man was never truly dead 

Inside his head, the lies were fed 

That he was better off alone and with sin 

Then beside a beautiful woman that loved him 

Even though he was weak as tin 

To come to terms with what he had endured in the past 

Buried his pain so deep 

Beside the roots 

Repressed horrors he had reaped 

But the iron was cast 

No need to live in regret 

At least if he were alone 

Could not hurt those who fret 

About his well-being, or so he thought 

Turns out he was wrong 

The lesson got lost in the plot 

What was he thinking, when taking that leap? 

The price that he paid, God damn it was steep. 

Snakes never have, a good bargain to offer 

The man should have declined 

Should have been his own author 

To a story of what could have been 

How different it would be 

Unfortunately, he will have to live knowing 

He paid the ultimate fee.......