Often He is Bad ©
(To my brother, suffering from Multiple Sclerosis)
Marc R. Sherland
Glasgow, Scotland
2004
When his tears subside, he still remains sad,
Trapped he is, in weak flesh and hard gnawed bone,
Knowing, as he does, often he is bad.
Getting into scrapes, in summer games glad,
Now in dreams steals, a famous traffic cone,
When his tears subside, he still remains sad.
Drinking far too much, spending well earned wad,
Scraping through weeks, for something new to own,
Knowing, as he does, often he is bad.
Racing on motor bikes, seemed another fad,
Having to give it up, without a moan,
When his tears subside, he still remains sad.
Multiple reasons, to go faintly mad,
Never gives them aught to say, or cast stone,
Knowing, as he does, often he is bad.
When his failings grow, daily in the add,
Legs, hands, nerves grow frail, losing muscle tone,
When his tears subside, he still remains sad,
Knowing, as he does, often he is bad.
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