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by Johanna May

Look at you
What a clutter
Of patched up faults,
Stains and bites,
Ten excuses high
visits to our son or hangovers?
I can hear why the other side wins
Inside your head
You fail as a father
A diorama of excuses--
Crystal--after I took off this cataract
I willingly donned to stare at you
And say "I do"
Well I did
Until I was emptied out.
The hate was too heavy
I cannot carry both it and our son,
Even if it fits you, it's gone.


Posted on 01/25/2016
Copyright © 2021 Johanna May

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