She sets fires
With the routine ease
Of setting tables for supper.
Disrupting lives with complete disregard
For those she’s hurting.

She’s hurting,
But covinced she’s doing everything right;
Can’t see the forest
Or the trees
Just the fire,
And knows
It’s not her fault.

It’s never her fault.

And the distance she creates
Drive her to wounding
And others.

I just wish
She didn’t make it so hard
Not to hate her.

About St Basil Z Fish

Curator of the strange and incredibly awkward. A rambling writer with the misguided notion he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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