I kicked you when you were down,
Having suffered a day at the mercy
Of the burdens of your psycho bitch boss.
I stacked a couple of extra bricks
On your shoulders,
When you came home.
So I could hissy-fit-rant-sulk
To appease my "real" manhood,
Exercise an empty authority.
A ghost.
Substance less,
Yet loud and furious
Pompous and spurious,
Spitting umbrage like a tempestuous toddler.
I'm sorry
For weaponizing guilt,
For making a bad day
Worse,
For not supporting
Or understanding you.
I
Am
Sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoetryWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch