I put myself
Through Hell
Working so long
At a nightclub
I felt I
Paid for
Past sins
I committed
I broke up fights
Protected others
Put my body
Through brutal punishment
I had crimes
Weighing on my soul
Serving my community
I would be absolved
What crime
Would require
Such a debt –
I was 14
I indirectly
Helped my father
Beat my mother –
I felt nothing
No sorrow
No joy
No ambivalence
No emotions
I was a
Cold, dead
Robot
Beep –
It took years
Before I realized
Exactly what
I had done
And I accepted
My punishment –
I think I’m still
Paying for it
I learned a lesson
I don’t watch people
Get hurt anymore
I try to stop it –
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 