1 of 486

Write now Article Tools

I feel as though I'm drifting but not swimming
Sinking not staying afloat
Being pushed rather than voluntarily remaining still
Bullied rather than free from harm
Abused, hurt and rejected
Treated as second-class scum
Regarded as inferior as I do not belong
Or have control over my own thoughts and actions.

The pressure to conform is all around me
Yet because I choose not to I am forced to become

A slave in my own country
A servant in my own house
Destitute rather than prosperous
Alone and not one of the crowd
A leper and an outcast
Despised and rejected simply for being me.

I no longer feel strong enough to stand
My self-confidence has gone
Unable to relax I feel continually on edge
Fearful of what will happen next
Or that, if I should sleep, I will wake to something new
And more sinister than before
Rendering me less able than ever
To withstand the burden of Eurocracy imposed upon me.

Anywhere, everywhere, I see the arm of Big Brother
Meddling, interfering, regulating, controlling and owning.
Gone are the days when an Englishman's home is his castle
As our land is being taken over by immigrants
And increasingly governed by unaccountable foreigners at home and overseas
Who have no respect for our customs, liberties and traditions.
I no longer feel I am a child of the United Kingdom
But a bastard of a European State in which, and to whom, I do not belong.

Increasingly I feel my hands are tied so I cannot write
My legs are bound so I cannot walk
My tongue is cut out so I cannot speak
And all I am left with are my eyes to see
And my ears to hear, the horror of what is being inflicted upon us
Together with the painful memories of what once was
And the childhood dreams of what might have been
Had others not chosen another course.

John Lennon once wrote "All these lonely people, where do they all come from:
All these lonely people where do they all belong"?
Bereft of kith and kin in Ulster, Scotland and Wales
And even larger numbers who call themselves English
I feel, more and more, like an orphan of a storm
No longer aboard the liner to a brave new world
No longer in control of my own destiny
But simply a piece of rubble, drifting and sinking
Ever deeper in the ice-cold water of the unknown deep.

I crave the companionship of others yet want to be left alone
Too exhausted to do anything I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep
Hoping that this nightmare will soon pass
But knowing, in reality, it is here to stay
And become more tiring, and vexing, as each day passes with no respite.
It clings to me like a terminal illness muddling my thoughts
Affecting everything I think, say and do,
I feel I am slowly but torturously being driven mad
And starved of a life worth living.

There are times, like now, when it all seems too much
I just want to end it all.
But, despite the fact, that if I had a gun I would probably shoot myself,
I struggle to carry on, desperately searching for the inner-faith I have long mislaid,
To give me the confidence not to give up
Or surrender what few remaining rights and liberties one enjoys
In a state one no longer feels one's own
And trapped within a body and mind paralysed beyond repair.

Learn more about this author, Christopher Luke.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Suicide?
We want to hear your view. Write now!