The Best; The Worst


Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?

I did my best. I did my worst.

Somehow, these two were one.

"I'd never wish to hurt you, Dear,"

I call, and aim my gun.


Oh, can I even learn from this?

Or will it still recur?

I try to analyze my sins--

They scatter, melt, and blur.


Perhaps self-love can be the thing

That heals my mind enough

To curb my second-guessing ways...

But still, it will be rough,


As I was rough on you, my friend--

So weak! So mean and dull

Am I! I yearn to punish me--

Instead of you.

. . . . Fare well.


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