Shadowed Path to Oblivion

Shadowed Path to Oblivion

Into the shadow of darkness, he fell
battered and tattered, crunched up in a cell.
Pleasure and pain seemed a horrible mix,
but he had gone two whole days with no fix.

Visions of sugarplums danced in his head
steering attention from bugs in his bed.
Prison is not quite a vision of hope,
but he's no stranger to shooting up dope.

From in the shadows where nothing exists,
out comes a punch from a knife-wielding fist.
Bloody and dying, he lies in a pool
taunted by voices who call him a fool.

Take what you might from a dark tale of woe;
winter's arrived and his grave's cold as snow.

Shadows of darkness sweep over the place.
One lonely mother holds hands over face;
two little sisters remember his name.
Time shall not add any grace to his fame.

Friends never bothered to ask what he'd done;
last that they'd known, he had been on the run.
Never an answer but always a scar,
what was the reason he'd fallen so far?

Memories, tear drops, his grave where they stand,
first day of school with his lunchbox in hand,
Mom's baby boy with a beautiful smile---
only some photos on top of a pile.

Come, take a look, share a thought, place some blame;
shadows of darkness have swallowed his name.

By Sharon Miller Bolander