The Poet's Prayer

People pray first off to survive,

and then for their sundries – in short, pray to thrive.

Poets are a different brand of moron, if we're branding.

They're enlightened idiots who pray for understanding.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say that nearly killed me.

Experience, with the right student, is an excellent teacher.

Once the world had time enough for tact,

They selfishly called your end a selfish act,

But with fate in your headlights, close enough to see,

Could there be anything more selfish than to expect you think of me?

I knew, alone, to disagree.

I alone did not blame you, so I blamed me.

Someone white should be practiced

In self-forgiving deserved guilt,

But I guess that isn't how I'm built.

I spent ten years loudly praying,

and shut up ten years too late.

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Just because one has suffered a fate,

and two deserve blame,

does not mean that there need

to be two casualties.

How can someone I knew ten years ago

Influence who I still am as an aspiring man?

I suppose I should pray to understand that,

Or at least for the strength to leave you the hell alone.

Shine on, you crazy diamond, you.

Remind me of music you never listened to.

I guess, and I hope, you'll be back when I'm through.