The Tiny Voice - Poem by Francis Duggan
He thought of his mountain of worries his impending court case with his ex wife
For the right to access to his children for him nothing easy in life
No hope of reconciliation with her with the man she loves she now live
His only crime was for to love her and he gave her all he could give.
He never abused or mistreated her or the children he was a good husband and dad
And he worked hard to provide for them and about him there is nothing bad
But the problem was she fell out of love with him and with him she wants nothing to do
And she does not want him to see his children a boy of five and a girl of two.
He thought of his terrible childhood he and his mother by his father physically abused
He often came home drunk from the pub and beat them such bad behaviour cannot be excused
His mother passed away a few years back where his father now lives he doesn't know nor care
His life so far not a happy story though stories like his are not rare.
He thought of his upcoming law case for the right to see his children through the courts he must fight
His devotion to his children should not be tested in this way about this there's something not right
He felt at the end of his tether of a good future he held little hope
His plan for to swing from the ceiling from a noose at the end of a rope.
The rope that would help him to suicide he had with him in his right hand
He had struggled against the odds for too long and his end he had already planned
Till all of a sudden a tiny voice from within screamed please no do not do it today
Hang in there for the sake of your children they would not want you to die in this way.
He put the rope into a drawer in his pantry the tiny voice had changed his mind
He would fight for access to his children and his way to happiness he would find
The tiny voice from within his life saver he would give life another try
Sometimes it is hard to keep living but it is even harder to die.
Comments about The Tiny Voice by Francis Duggan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe