A Broken Dream (part 3)

Continuation of A Broken Dream (part 2)

Now, I don’t want to go into detail here, but I can safely say that by 1989, our lives were fast heading in different directions. I had found a way out, had pulled myself out of the pit and had decided it was time to leave that place in search of something better. I had spent two years living in London and now, I had found Sweden. I had met some Swede’s who had invited me over. I took my chances and made best my escape. Scum didn’t get out though. He fell even deeper. He did find love, even got married. I guess it was that marriage that drove the last nail in his coffin. Scum had searched for a dream, had left home, confident things could only get better. He found out just how easily dreams can die. Drugs had become his escape from reality and reality had become a clouded, heartbreaking blur that he had somehow, lost control of. He tried so hard to get back up, fought like a true warrior to live up to the expectations of his wife. He even found a job. He got his hair cut, tried his hardest to be a normal, nineteen year old husband. He kept falling back though, couldn’t live with drugs and quite simply, couldn’t live without them.

And so Martin Wright, better known to me as Scum,decided he could take no more. He waited until his wife went to bed one night, tied a thick rope to a hook in the ceiling and stood on a chair. That night a dream died and so did one of the best friends I have ever had.

I would like to dedicate this poem to Martin (Scum) Wright

Heroin Hell

A young man in a corner,
head in knees,
his head in a muddle,
his mind seems to tease,
the marks on his arms
are jack-up scars,
he sits in a corner
and watches then cars.

He has no future,
he has no life,
his family said, “give up”
and so did his wife,
but heroin’s this man’s only life,
just like a demon takes over a soul,
the only way out’s death,
that’s his goal.

He once had a business and lots of cash,
but now just needles to hide and stash.
is this the future for youth of today,
minds that have rotten,
brains torn away,
this is then gamble
the young fools play.

Final note: Just say no!

You have not been forgotten, Scum!

May the sun shine on you today ….  Gavin

4 Responses

  1. Eva Andersson

    Suppose we all have a friend we remember who couldn’t face the rat race… As long as we remember them their lives have not been in vain. Our memories of what happened then just might make us able to help someone else…
    Love the poem – you remember him well! 🙂

  2. Gavin and Rosie

    Gavin, I have said a silent prayer for Scum and another prayer in thanksgiving that you are still alive to tell the story and have a bright future. I truly believe by sharing you will reach someone that needs help. God Bless You!

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