29 Sep 2016 – Sonnet

A stinging sorrow, and a weight of grief
for every girl who ever tried to love
this wounded fool who never could believe
that anybody could. Each one he shoved
away, incredulous and scared to death
of what exactly motivated each;
too smart and too untrusting. Out of breath
from running for – or from – his life down streets
dead-ending where there’s only space for pride.
When snake-eyes are the only thing you roll,
a smart man – one would hope – might soon decide
the game is rigged, and ask who’s in control?
You have no obligation to forgive,
still I must ask it for the life I’ve lived.