Can I catch
myself reacting, or
will it always be
like water flowing through
a fisherman’s net?

Would that I’m
sorry, could
ever recompense.

Snagged by my own barbs,
I wildly thrash.
Sluice gates slam shut –
rivers of sadness

What but this cry
will alleviate
this awful
metal taste?

What but this cry
can ease
my hammering

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