This was an outlet for anger and therapy for my betrayed heart.
Speaking metaphorically, I'd say anyone in this circumstance would be miserable
1989 was a very bad year.
I wrote this poem in 1989 during the pre-divorce stage when my world was crumbling.
A poem written on the same night as Pleasure... over the same girl. Blah Blah.
The pain of the past does harm that for most has a lasting effect. "98"
