Home » Poetry » Day 116 – It Won’t Be Any Worse

Day 116 – It Won’t Be Any Worse

I have looked misery in the face
and dared it to top the senseless, throbbing grief I’ve already seen.
When it comes again, it won’t be any worse.
I have laughed at the silly dominance
that love’s tried to feign over me,
little king waving its name around,
shouting me down.
When he comes around again, he won’t be any worse.
I have grabbed heartache by their chest hairs,
that unholy host of all those great beasts
which squirm their whole bodies down throats to choke and quiet
and said,
“If you’re coming for me again,
don’t make any pit stops this time.”
When they come around again, they won’t be any worse.
So, too, have I discarded whatever self-preservation I had,
because it couldn’t save me then,
and I don’t expect to be spared now-
I don’t expect that standing against reason, that displeasing the gods and forfeiting my soul
would win me better treatment this time,
when it all comes around again.
But it won’t be any worse.

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