MY POEMS ARE CONFESSIONS

My poems are like the catholic guilt 

i seem to confuse poetic verse

with a confessional

spinning true tales of trauma into fairy tales.

In the hope i might somehow be absolved of shame.

pawning accounts of my 'victimhood'

For the fleeting orgasm of 'sympathy'

like an innocent fly trapped in amber

powerless and devoid of 'mistakes'

with potential that can never be met

in a state like schrondinger's cat,

both alive and dead

both preadator and prey

airing out the demons of your mind

Does not a poet make

and being 'honest' is neither brave

or a choice when you swallow the sun whole for people.