I try to sound tough
When I’m not,
Claiming I only
Wish you Happy Birthday
To get even for yours
Forgiving me,
This ironic use of language
Of happy when we mean mad
Forgiveness when not forgiven,
The hurt of it goes deeper
Than even poetry can take us,
This pain we bear
Each separately,
Each wounded in a different way,
Each aching for salvation
We can neither give nor get
Yet always regret,
I try to sound tough
Even when I’m bushwhacked,
Father, brother, step mom
All stepping up to the plate
To have their whack at me,
And me, pretending
To be tough,
Saying things that sound tough
But come off cruel,
When down deep,
I really do mean,
“Happy Birthday.”
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