Fear making the same mistakes

she was a giver; not just to me, but to many more. I was angry and mean, the words I used I now abhor. Did I know better? Possibly, and yet, I flung terror into the air. Hitting her in the heart with arrows of nasty, not giving a care. I was not a good partner, I killed her spirit and more. I was angry and mean, the words I used I now abhor. Too late to fix it, she is gone now, she has flown away. She has a family and love, her life now happy and gay. And here I sit, in my nest for one, all gloomy and dark. My tethers of nastiness no longer a joke or a lark. I want to do better, but I fear I’ll make the same mistakes again. My negative spirit I inherited from my family, my kin.