POEM: DON’T BE YOUR OWN PROBLEM
Here is no way to describe the feeling you get when you get the last evidence
After a truck load of what the hell becomes
No longer a clue
When you get that last evidence of infidelity
And feel nothing
You’re just sterile.
You wonder how you’ve become that person
Or have become bogged down so many times
That you read a sad cheating email
And feel nothing.
At the very least, you’d hope you’d be pissed, or cry, or feel
But you don’t.
You are thankful.
You’ve come to realize, holding back your truth kills. Without honesty, you die, not softly by the way, terribly.
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Last reviewed: 17 Oct 2013