Forgive my trespasses and I

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Forgive my trespasses and I
shall forgive yours. Pacing
with this telephone, calls
to mind the dull and pounding throb
of my broken throat. Sobs
spilled like useless footfalls
on scaffold floors.
The fitful pounding at your door
awoke your anger even more.
Poetry would have to do, to
break my singing angel through.
Run she said real high in vain,
she could not hear the broken rain,
I laugh out loud and quite insane,
words, words, words.