Friday, 24 February 2017

poetry 2017 / 031


It's time to say I'm sorry
for all the things I did
when I was avaricious, proud or angry;
The time I punched John Emerson in the liver
for calling me... whatever it was...
for pulling Sally's Cooper's hair
because she stopped being my friend;
for writing grafitti on the school bus
and sawing through the table in home room.
For writing lurid teenage sex stories
starring the current recipient of my lust.
The time I stole porn mags from John Menzies
and sold them to the boys at school.
For stealing my father's cigarettes,
a bottle of whisky from the pantry,
and chocolate from my mother's shop.
The night I kicked a bloke in the neck
for beating up my bff
and the harsh words over Messenger
when Vicky finally dumped me
because she was straight after all.
Now I'm sorry for my complacency;
my peace with the world
and my lack of ambition;
but most of all to myself
for the abuses of my body
and the extra hundred pounds of weight.

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