.
tell every wrong story to your
self as if you wield honest
hate, then tell it again
as if you are your own
child. when your tears are
bath, a good long look at
each little old knife in
your back. did you
.
forgive them their sins?
why the hell not.
.
I tell myself a
story that is true and
still good in the end
.
because you taught me
that I could, and today
the sky is jet blue, one
bird absolutely over the moon for
spring, shouting about it.
orphan poems 