It’s one of those days where we’re polite
but we want to gather handfuls of ****
and **** it at the faces
of those who’ve known no sadness,
other than the dappy misery they’ve caused
to those, potential relations,
they told they loved.

I try to deny a bitterness
when I check every lock each night
including on my bins,
that each of us is the same
from birth
but the score of this whole game
starts on different tees.

See, we know.