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Poem: March twenty-fifth


Where is the good
in any of this?
I look at you.
You look away.

Why do you blame
when there’s no sin?
Your eyes speak loud
in hard judgement.

I didn’t do;
You didn’t ask.
I should have known.
Apparently.

Hey – you know what?
Not my mistake.
Mind-reading was
never my strength.

You seem able
to speak your mind
clearly and loud
full of anger.

How about this?
Never assume
I’m inside your head
waiting to please.

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