At a Mass Ave bus stop. Broken mirror in a
storefront. I see, in slivers of glass, pieces
of my mind apart from each other, madness.
Mostly I see guilt. Always GUILT! Like
being stalked by some ******* Russian writer!
Deliver me from me. Help me find redemption.
I left my wife and kids, like some suicide.
Life an emotional minefield I danced through!
******, beer and cigarettes kept me sane.
Angels guided me, so many I've lost count.
Some would call them friends and they were.
They guided me back to what mattered most.
My kids were the missing piece of me.
Awkward reunions, regaining trust, closeness.
Katie and Sean.  A mantra I never forgot.
A hope I clutched alone in the desert.