Falling headfirst
down the flight of stairs.
Hands reaching out,
fingers touching, almost grasping,
the barrier of the stairways.
Just a little more, a little more.
But no, he did not help himself.
A deafening sound was heard.
A loud thump ending the fall.
The barrier was waiting to be caught.
Should have tried a little more,
he thought.
Just a little more, a little more.
And still, he pondered on before.
A passerby came walking by.
Offered a car ride for medical aid.
He declined with fury and embarrassment.
The kind soul was baffled but was persistent.
Just a little more, a little more.
The hurting man did not want his help.
Entering home, he flopped to bed.
The pain pounding against his head.
He thought he should do the right thing,
by getting help.
But he was too lazy and tired to head out.
Just a little more, a little more.
And then he slept like a boar.
In and out of sleep he churned.
The pain grew real and he feared.
He was too ill to seek help.
At last what he was afraid was felt.
Death, it seeped in slow.
Just a little more, wasn't it so.
He must have thought of help.
But he did not help himself.