A Poem of Un-Loving

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish you were more than a bearer of bad news.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I was interested in your views.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could trust it would be done

Without having your head put before a gun.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish you would shut up and see,

that I am miles away, trapped in body but my mind is straying free.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had the guts to say,

that I really have no interest in what you did the whole day.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish you wore the pants,

that you called the shots, that you have to think so much,

that your nerves wreck, your back breaks and your brain explodes,

And then I will say sorry for wishing for these horrible things.

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