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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.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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