Death Walk by Andrew Scott


Every day I see them from afar.
Have for the past few years
to remind myself
the family and our moments
before the substances took over
and decided to lead me.

My name is Robbie
and, to them, I have disappeared
a little over four years ago
after turning seventeen.

For me, the struggle
started at a young age.
At first it was pills,
so easy to get at twelve.
Older people do not care
who they sell too.
Friends experimented
and I followed the sensation.

The traveling feet
came shortly after.
Would start to vanish
for days and then weeks.
Never told the family
where I was or did.
Did not grasp the concern
that would happen
while I was out.

My parents did send
me away once to get clean.
It did work for a while
and I did feel better, focused,
even though the struggle was there.

Thought one more smoke
would be fine,
three days later I came to
so far away from
the serenity of home.

The want was overwhelming
and I never went back home.
I did see the posters of my missing
but they never knew
where to look to find me.

I ignored the pleas
to come home that I did see.
The person I became
would have tormented family more.

My skin was white and thin,
my body thinner each day.
No such thing as contained thoughts.

I have accepted that one day
I will not wake up
so the last noble act
is hiding from them
during my self-inflicted death walk.

December 29, 2019
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2019


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Andrew Scott is a native of Fredericton, NB. During his time as an active poet, Andrew Scott has taken the time to speak in front of classrooms, judge poetry competitions as well as had over 200 hundred writings published worldwide in such publications as The Art of Being Human, Battered Shadows and The Broken Ones.


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