There was a time and a place
for repression, for anger, and 
a time that I needed to change
but I did – and I cannot repent
for that, at least – I am not sorry

I have done things, of course
and I am frustrating and childish
but I am a constant – and I know,
I can be kind. I can be smart 
and I deserve a little better

Honesty never had a home
with me, and repression was
the name of the game, of
the writer’s heart. But I deserve
to not be bitter, to not ruminate
on what so-and-so did last night

I have looked worse, I have done worse
and I am good. I am noble, enough
I have a home and a family,
and he has been good to me
good enough that I know now – I know
what I deserve, and it is not
what I had thought.

If this is complicated, I know. If this is
divorced from truth – that’s down to you
I want to commit entirely
to what I know, and I have to leave

To learn myself, to be a part 
to be the first to see the sea
to let sea air and futures
make me dizzy, where pills and cold
used to fulfill me 
thank you; I am not sorry


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