By Joseph Hesch
I closed the door on my old self,
the bull in the china shop one
who scattered shards of lives
from one debris pile to the next.
I wasn't sure, or maybe I feared,
what I would find and break
behind the next open door--
the one marked in ink and doubt.
When I walked through it,
I realized that I had been
destroying my own world,
piece by carefully arranged piece.
Now, I was going to spend
the rest of my life
passing notes between the bars
confessing my sins to you
and explaining myself to myself.