you carry old baggage in straight suitcases
full of contrition’s contractions, each rosary bead spent
dragging sorrowful daggers of spite
pity self-pity’s pity, no others or places
killing softly with words, not deeds
psychic murders in poesy lines
each keystroke a slasher’s razor bleeds
disregarding tender hearts and rhyme
history’s ink well spill on your page
born-out to suffer blue outrage
sworn blind with fear of life’s gift
unwilling grace to heal this rift
-cec