but not really caring

Sometimes we need our revenge

To cope with forgiveness.

Sometimes we need to pull out the flowers,

That the weeds wont overwhelm.

I fell asleep

With my seasickness.

I threw up something,

That maybe would have tasted well with time,

Evidently not with repetition.

I had to allow them to strip me.

After I walked away,

Certain they could never strip me.

I floated over the Atlantic,

And swam in my own Pacific.

I fed my own rats,

And killed the rest out of mercy.

Out of humanity I was ready to adopt,

For the sake of balance,

I decided not to.

I had my charity,

And let the beggars beg.

I cloned a child,

Maybe he is yours

And I own him?

I got off

On cartoon porn,

And real life rape.

I used my tolerance

To articulate my discrimination.

I came with my American accent,

And these people suddenly had English accents.

I sat in all humility

Waiting for someone to stand me up,

Hoping he’d be able to stand my weight

When I jumped on top of him:

But not really caring.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please critique this poem.

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