Friday, March 4, 2011

Bad Poetry Day in the Rites Replacement

It had to be done, I understand that.
But was it imperfect? You bet it was.
Clumsy, ham-handed, so badly managed
That I will always be ashamed of me.

It had to be done.

Too many distractions and worries re
Things that are not my fucking business
And over which I could have no control
Leaving my mind to race with vague shadows.

It had to be done.

But it will never be done, it haunts me
With questions. Did I somehow make it worse?
Did I need more humor ? Less mothering?
Did I put me first and run for the door?

It had to be done.

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