I was so angry with you that
My eyes were
crowded with
Unsheathed daggers
so sharp
And glistening
with ruddy red beads
Of blood that they
sullied the sun
And dispirited demons
in their duty.
This momentary
flash of ire and ilk
Left a permanent
scar on my memory,
A constant
reminder that
Trust can be
fleeting
And friendship,
sweet friendship
Is often unkind.
But anger is often
a fugitive phantom,
A prison of
darkness where
No one should
dwell.
This fickle
mistress
Enslaves my bliss
With a serpent’s
hiss
From the dungeons
of Hell.
I shall not reside
Without pity or
pride,
Though redemption
itself is foregone.
When truth finds
it’s way
There is naught
left to say
But to simply
forgive
And move on.
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