The Lostness. Poem by Terry Collett

Mickey had locked himself
In the house and his mother
Was concerned he’d do something
To harm himself so you went
Around and knocked at the back
Door and called his name and
He said go away I don’t want to
Talk to anyone but you stayed
And persisted and he finally
Opened up and let you in and
You said why this? And he said
I’m so like my old man that I
Hate myself and he stared at
The Van Gogh print on the wall
Above the fireplace with a look
Of deep unhappiness and lostness
On his face. You are what you make
Yourself you said taking in Vincent’s
Sunflowers the way the vibrant
Picture hung there the smell of
Flowers in the late evening air.