Hello Sammy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
The whole piece deals with relationships, hurt and paranoia all fixed from the 4th scene of Blood Brothers (Willie Russel).
When i was younger i used to watch 'stable' relationships that never broke even though i wanted it to. The boyfriend would take drugs and the girl just kept adding gloss to her lips, and i never understood why such a beautiful girl would go out with such a low-life scum. My mom would always laugh at me, for not having a single girlfriend in my life. She would insult me with such remarks like, 'who would go out with a dirty boy who doesn't even comb his hair properly.' This always made me cry so i decided just not to ever talk about girls in general to her.
The hurt isn't much of a personal reference, more like a daydream of sometype of old figure telling me stories about the good ole world wars, and just being in the presence of it all. The paranoia though, is a personal reference in its own right, my mom didn't like to let me out after 5pm. Sometimes even i would be scared to leave the house, thinking something (not necessarily someone) will kill me. A lot of traditional stories my mom would keep into fact and follow it and believe in it. Just the feeling of being in the prensence of it all.
Reread the poem and try to relate that with what's being said.

Submitted: November 28, 2007

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Submitted: November 28, 2007



I walk in a room with a book not too far off and an ear next to a camel.
At the time, I was a happy chap and no imagination was neither stressed nor owned.
But this was before I behold such an odd couple; a shoe on a table, why is this?
But still I was happy, very happy.
There I also saw a pack with a joker that was ‘stoned’ and the table and the shoe rolled along.
(I walked away.)
Then I saw some salt
And that salt also saw a cracked mirror.
The salt looked at me and said ‘what’s wrong? ’ But I said nothing to that thing I just
Walked away.
While I strolled, one lone magpie came my way attired friendly.
He said ‘what do you want? ’
I said ‘another world war’
He laughed at me and it was then that he knitted blood.
Then a mother came to me and I asked her for a drink.
She spitted as she heard me speak.
She said ‘who are you? ’
And I said ‘what does this matter? ’
‘You’re a fool! ’ she cried ‘never should a narrator voice his heart’
I came closer and said ‘why shouldn’t this be? ’
And she said to me ‘you can dare the superstitious mind but nothing shall come from it’
But let me tell you this dear Sammy I knew nothing of what was said, I never did.

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