old repentances

Old Repentances

The track I follow, in the landscape of bushes with
leaves sharp as shaving blades, mainly because it’s
void of people and only used by sheep their guardian
and executioner didn’t give me peace today.

The lock, on the box where unwanted memories are
stored, sprung open and before I could stuff it all in
again and repair the lock they were all over my mind
producing thoughts and regrets that made me suffer.

I’m my worst critic, merciless, give no quarter, whip
myself till I admit I’m the scum of the earth. But with
the unwanted back in the box I giggled, I sometimes
sound like a pompous old head teacher.