Confessor

By Clara Blair

How dare you turn that face to me!
Where is the well of human kindness now,
That which so many praise you for?
I did not come to you to drink old bile.
The price I’ve paid is too high for that.
Or is your compassion only for the crowd,
When you can oversimplify their problems.

Cynic! No comfort comes of sphinxes,
And comfort is what I need.

© 2004 Clara Blair