Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled(c. 1993 or 1994)


We often say things we don’t mean

some hurtful, some obscene

We laugh like lovers

but fight like brothers

Who is to blame

for the sorrow, for the pain?

Do we mean what we say?

Or should we turn our backs

and walk away?

When we make up do we really want to breakup?

Or just pretend?



At first I thought I might have been having an existential crisis when I wrote this. Then I realized it was just about a boy.

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