I am morally bankrupt—so
Cheatin on myself/ stealing from
myself—shaming me.
And the to compound my
moral craptitude—I fell
for people who devalue me take
from me.
I went to Venice last year just at this time—
July 4th in a gondola with the love of
my life—in love—she sat in the boat
as I negotiate the price with the
gondaleer as he yelled at a woman in heals
to marry him on a bridge overhead.
I stole from me by not seeing the truth
That vice is lying. Sloth, too because
I didn’t get up out of her bed and her
lingerie and reach for hope and something
else—I don’t even use the word “better”—
Instead of looking to shrinks for help—
dig, deeper into my agency to make choices.
When I choose &*%$%#. I chose immorality in
sheep’s clothing. Forget red flags and flying
monkeys/ Or in a sexy top and short skirt—
coral nails. I made the choice/ I choose immorality
She had a knife in her purse/ she had snake in
her eyes. I chose her. I had agency.
I am sorry for anyone I hurt while she almost
killed me with her poisoned hatred of me.
I am sorry to my children for u having to say
u don’t see us—u don’t care about us.
I hope that I have repented—I atone for my vices/
I am sorry – ME