Poems Dark


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What are the odds…

Of all the places I could be
And you could be too;
That I’d be me
And you’d be you?

And that we’d be here now,
Right where we are –
Out of all of the planets
And all of the stars?

What are the odds…

That you’d know exactly
Which buttons to press
To trigger my angsty,
Angry teen-aged mess?

And make my blood boil
And the acid rise in my chest;
Make me want to kill you
And not be ashamed to confess.

What are the odds…

That you would point out
Those parts of me I still despise?
Thank you for letting me see me
While looking in your eyes.

Thank you for not being nice
And for judging me out loud.
Thank you for showing me
The me of which I’m still not proud.

Thanks for setting me straight
Simply by being you
By being mean and nasty;
Acerbic and vicious too.

What are the odds…

That in wanting to lash out
And strike right back,
I’d see the areas
Where I still lack

Love and forgiveness
And kindness for myself
And mostly compassion
For an old me long-shelved.

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