Preamble: see below for explanation that is too long to preamble here.

I didn’t know I was still angry till the day I heard you’d died.

Suddenly the old bitterness is welling up inside

I haven’t given you a thought for literally years

But now I find my eyes are filling up with tears

Not of grief, but of re-awakened pain

Reliving the sting of your words all over again

I’m not ...

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Should the feelings of guilt

outweigh those of resentment?

Is the fear of loneliness

worth more than fear of rage?

Is it wrong to long for simplicity

and abandon the search for contentment?

Is it right to write words of anger

on a blank, unforgiving page?

Is it wise to seek solace in poetry

when every act of writing

is seen as an act of selfishness

that can ne...

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