Sometimes the world is out to make you hate
Yourself for all that makes you who you are.
The good in you becomes your evil fate;
Blessings will curse you; all you make will mar.
You greet the dawn with hope, trust, and affection.
They all cause the reverse of what you wanted.
Trust gives birth to betrayal; love, rejection;
And hope becomes the house in which you’re haunted.
It’s like friends who turn into enemies.
They helped, and now they hurt. Two sides; one coin.
Today’s locked door; yesterday’s set of keys—
Tomorrow’s hammer, cleaving all you join—
Till shame and hurt make of your broken pride
A caustic pit where you can safely hide.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells