There’s a doomsday device in me,
like in Dr. Strangelove;
an inert part of me that rests
until a bomb is dropped.
Then it lashes out and destroys the world.
It’s a hateful, petty part of me.
It’s a wounded animal in the
pit of my stomach, knives out.
RAR — it’s my Mr. Hyde.
I have many, many failings;
I’ve a veritable horde of faults
and pettiness and cruelty.
I’m neither perfect nor wise.
I’ll be the first to admit it.
no life but that which we make
I’m doing the best that I can ….