poetry, trails of thought

“… and what if the problem WAS me?”

What if I’d never loved anyone

I’d claimed love in my life?

What if the problem wasn’t

imperfect them but savagely

psychopathic me?

And what if in all this awful life

I’ve had –

I’ve badly given you –

all these years in this

awful existence I’ve

survived all these years,

in these moments of

living and died all these years,

the only real difference

between me and you

is that you are imperfectly

good and I am – wait for it! –

perfectly bad?

 

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