Saturday, March 24, 2012

I'm sorry.

I would tell her I'm sorry.
I'm sorry your place of birth is a hot hell you call your own.
I'm sorry for the way you're addicted to cigarettes
and the way you blow smoke in your four-year old's boy face.
I'm sorry you itch like crazy at night because of those bed bugs
and the way you yell at the boy and the other in your belly just before
you cuss the world to sleep.

I'm sorry you have to see me like the dreamy child you once were.
But childhood is long forgotten.
With it your dignity too
Twenty-five year old charity case
lost intellect and life
your energy comes from sugar loaded energy drinks and an overused pipe.
your hairs falling out but you're too depressed to notice.

Sometimes I'm sorry I fidget in my sleep
I have it too good to fit around in vain.
My eyes drift away from my chaotic surroundings because I'm sorry we live in this hell together
I kiss my greed to sleep and face it all again in the desperate ever glow of the morning.

I'm sorry you call the system oppressive
but I call it competitive.
I'm sorry sugary cereals and stale Pepsi drinks fill your appetite.

I'm sorry that everything you've worked for has been destroyed.
I'm sorry loose change has turned into knives
I'm sorry patience comes in chance
I'm sorry your holy place of g-d is decrepit.
I'm sorry for my skin color
and my oblivion of its subtle powers.

I'm sorry I subdue myself in an underworld
unaware of your misery.
I'm sorry I didn't know about the memorials less than 500 miles away
I'm sorry for writing this poem you may never get to read
But most of all
I'm sorry because you are just like me.

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