A Conversation With My Dearest Friend
So why are you shouting at me!
by David Taylor
And that thing you said,
did you really mean to be,
so very, very mean and hurtful?
And to offend in such a deep defence,
and when I’m feeling down,
why, so it seems, do you want
to kick my very soul,
and bruise my sensibilities
with hateful speech.
You say that’s all you know,
and how you have survived,
a life scarred with unkindness.
Encountered of so many kinds
that you lost count and lost sight,
of the kind of man you really are.
My dearest friend,
locked inside a mind with
bitter experience, the label on its jar.
But then I do like talking to myself;