Poetic

Her will her woe

If those of you, able to look dead into me and interject
‘there’s something wrong with you’,
are then rendered alright,
I’d rather stay in my wrongness
Than be alright.
For it’s plain wrong
I tell you.
I prize that something wrong with me.
Fucking wrong ‘un, me.

But he never did that
And she would never do that.
Stay alright
You seldom straying
Lovely people.

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