They Stare Back Poem by Robin Pratt

They stare back
the hollow eyes.
Blank,
somehow damaged

I no longer
understand
my image.
It isn't me, I don't exist.

I feel no longer real
part dead
murdered by cancer.
It smirks while my soul aches.

The summer rain
splatters
on my mechanically ingenious
umbrella.

Held aloft by
mechanical miracle of an arm
to protect me from
this grey damp dismal morning.

No summer joy
just the blank eyes
of smokers
huddled in their suicide doorways.

Their pallid skin
a tribute to morbidity
Adds to the irritation
because I have nowhere to be.

Why did I shout
go off on one
so perfect, poised on high
to attack and insult others

Or is it just defective wiring
in this mess
I call my mind.
Oh, so faulty

What do I do?
How do I change?
Obsessive obsession,
Preening preoccupation.

Are you important? - no
are they important? - yes
Reality fixed by the gift
not the theft

The giver, helper, supporter, friend
is not the stealer of souls
Get over yourself and
give of yourself, generously, unconditionally!