Christopher Wellbelove Poet I do not know?

I Bit the Hand

I bit the hand,
That fed me,
That helped me through,
My early years.

Then again.

I bit the hand,
That hit me,
That sent me reeling,
Into inner hell.

I bit the hand,
That loved me,
That cared for me,
When I was young.

Then again.

I bit the hand,
That hated me,
And filled me with,
A lonely disease.

I bit the hand,
Then it bit me.
I kissed the hand,
And then it hit me.

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