Sorry, not sorry

It’s premature to think you’ve got me,

Though I’m weakened and pitiful,

Trashing around, like a wounded animal,

One second from bitting off my foot.


It’s my life and my choosing,

When you see me bleeding, caught in a trap,

Instead of gloating, you should be asking –

Is there a chance I wanted it to end, like that?

One thought on “Sorry, not sorry

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