.

I watched a documentary reconstructing the facts given by key witness and family member Linda and found it so blood curdling.

Prose.

This is a poem about someone who I was so mean to. I had no way to apologize and just kept being mean.

We age in due course, and if can make it through the years, like an oak tree, rising high and spreading, its branches gnarled and twisted, we may yet remain useful, not only to others, but also ourselves.

One of the first poems I ever wrote… the most appropriate name for that time in my life would probably be my blue period.

Lines: 28. Theme: Song.

A haiku.

Dark writing, describing the human desire.

I am guilty for every single lie.