Michael

Who do you see lying there,
As you hold his wrist in your hand?
I see what you see, but I know who I know
My brother, your patient, the man.

Someone who babbles, dribbles and smells,
A pretty unpleasant sight,
Someone who stares and laughs for no reason,
Someone who “isn’t quite right”.

But I know the child who played in the sun
With the hopes and dreams of us all
The teen who loved music and QPR,
With a talent for playing football.

No, he doesn’t play now, his ankles were crushed
When he jumped to escape from the pain
Of the demons who haunted and taunted him
No, he’ll never play football again.

But somewhere there still is the person
Who’s loving gentle and kind,
Who lives in fear of a hostile world
That he sees with his tortured mind.

Just wanted you to see beyond
The shell now in your care,
So you could know a bit of the man
My brother, lying there