The Switch
What good has come of it: doing good?
Yes I am honest and yes my pots are clean
Still I wish they weren’t spick, span and gleaming
I wish they had need for a good wiping
What would it cost for a little dirt?
Constant cooking noises from across the wired fence
Makes my ears tingle with envy and anger
Constant cries of hunger exasperate from within
Fury blinds me, the Devil binds me
The door beckons, I make for it
Gun in hand, one thing on my mind
Heaven or Hell, I don’t care
I’m done with it: being good.
The good die young. I don’t want that
My grip tightens, the good must die tonight
Starting from tonight, my evil twin lives
The nakedness of my children
Their empty protruding bellies
Proofs of my foolish goodness.
The soap and kitchen sponges
Must be used more often now
After tonight, the only cries to be heard:
“Daddy, I want some more”
Copyright © Henry Ategie | Year Posted 2017
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