My Last Resort Poem by Timothy Lee Hollandsworth Jr.

Here we are again.
The familiar gray of ash
Falls from fire and flame.
From far away, I hear it calling.
I won't refuse it, I am coming
Home.

Father, you know my hands are dirty.
Mother, oh mother.
Lover, I need no other.
Wash my stains away.
Tides of pain are coming
Home, Home, Tides are coming Home.

Father, please believe me.
Mother, you know I'm bleeding.
Lover, I know it's hard to discover.
Wash my stains away.
Tides of pain are coming
Home. I must go away.
Away, I must go away.

It's my last resort.
My last resort.

Hold the candle to the breeze,
Get on my knees,
And just breathe.
Sanctuary.

Here I am now,
The familiar gray of 'how? '
From far away I hear it calling,
I can't refuse it, I'm coming
Home. Home, I'm coming Home.

It's my last resort.
My last resort.