I see self,
but this moment, I’m
I know that inside of me
is meaner than they.
American Culture, Depression, Love, Manners, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Shadorma
This entry was posted on February 26, 2017, 5:49 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by clinock on February 27, 2017 - 2:25 am
Hear you Carl…Been there! Always want to ride my cart like Ben Hur’s chariot, scattering polite consumers as I burn through the aisles searching for the most for the least…
#2 by Carl on February 28, 2017 - 6:56 pm
I have my pregame talk. “I’m going to be nice this time,” but someone crosses me up, and I’m done. I get upset about things that don’t matter to anyone and shouldn’t matter to me.
#3 by Evelyn on February 28, 2017 - 7:34 pm
I can’t imagine you being mean!
#4 by Carl on March 2, 2017 - 12:36 am
My thoughts can be bad. I think it shows on my face, too.
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