(22 April 1943 / New York / United States)

First Memory

Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was--
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.

User Rating: 3,8 / 5 ( 35 votes ) 10

Other poems of GLUCK (74)

Comments (10)

I do love the perspective.
I like the twist ending
Verily, a regret and repent with self realization......10
With twists and turns it has depth and meaningful ink. Loved it.
Wow. Very nice. It seems to say that the deepest pain you can ever feel, is love for someone else. You can deal with not being loved, but it kills you to love someone.
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