CarolineFarr

Clearly my cry was disregarded as just poetry

Oh hun, its not mine. A poet called Stevie Smith. I think it just reflects the masks we wear everyday.

by Poet Stevie Smith Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.