There’s no one quite as good
At always finding fault
With any neighbourhood,
The taste of table salt,
The way the ocean looks,
The colour of the sky,
The gist of sacred books
And every way to die.
But, most of all, I find
That I’m the best to blame,
And so I mock my mind
And denigrate my name.
But taking this approach
Ignores my inner coach.
Photo by Manuel bonadeo on Unsplash
