With my fists up by my face,
ready to take you out with a punch,
addicted to being mad,
I sold my soul to the devil
and I didn’t even blink.
At my age and in these times,
can old habits at least be seen?
But this is still safe territory,
what if I burn the book of your transgressions?
Will my soft round animal body be ok?
Will it flourish?
Will it laugh out loud?
Delighting in your smile
and seeing all manner of things reinvented.
Fighting is not winning,
What story do I want to tell?