Iryna Hall Poet Rhyme

TRASH

If only I could forgive 
A scoundrel, a scum like me,
With treacheries up my sleeve,
Atrocities running free;

If only I could forget 
My wicked blood-thirsty crime,
My constantly looming threat,
My murderous paradigm,

I’d probably be a saint,
An angel with halo hat,
Disproving my own “there ain’t
Nobody as dope as that.”

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Barthwell Farmer October 8, 2026 at 8:41 AM This strikes me as hard-hitting observations of one's potentiality and I like the way it swings between that and possible shortcomings that could seemingly hurt more than one's reputation. Iryna Hall October 8, 2026 at 1:05 PM Thank you for the thoughtful comment!