Is a poem
a cry for help,
not sure which.
I can admit
I can’t save myself
without a problem.
But to admit
I am not a savior
Watch me. I’ve taken bums off the street
to wash his feet with my hair, and
just to brighten his day.
Send him off with a hot meal,
some kind words about his character and
words about the cruelty of the world.
Sweet mother of mercy, what is this?
Why must I interfere with God’s will?
Why can I not let natural consequences teach others, as they taught me?
Replacement addiction? How many
Times was I dropped as child,