Lost Road Poem by Barry Middleton

They say a writer, a poet,
must write what he knows.

For that we must exhume
painful loss and torment.

I saw the rack and torture.
No boasting, it is a curse.

Love seems not to love
the few to punish defeat.

I know I'll always wonder
why love cast me aside.

Should I write what I know?
Then you must go with me.

Down an empty dark road,
I would travel not alone.

Turn away from me again;
I do not blame your fear.

My way is fraught with pain.
Best to run before the snare.

Some destiny is set in stone:
to live, to yield, to die alone.