The Villain

 

I grew up 

    in tragedy.  Like the pages of White Oleander. 

It 

 Was all I knew. 

And like a disease, it would multiply 

  Poisonous Spores 

Seeping into everything. 

Now, 

 In my own reflections, 

I see too rightly. 

  See with weighted jade 

The shades you are off, 

  And he and they, and them. 

All rippled resonances back unto me. 

  Seems hardly to have served 

Any purpose. Being me. At all. 

The torment, a surrendered walk through. 

An evangelical experience. 

  A strip search,

And Hosed Down. 

  And a place 

I am trying to find it possible 

To be loved