A mistake made twice is a decision*

I wrote a poem about schizophrenic pottery

and there was a long silence

after I spoke to my psychiatrist

about it

On the day I turned twenty

I promised myself I wouldn't see thirty

Someone in rehab asked me

why thirty, and not your next birthday?

I stand up in front of you

questioning my worth

and all I get

is a handshake and hospital bills

I write fiction in

the vein

of an apology

Sorry for the broken pottery

*I can't get this

out of my head

sorry in advance

if it doesn't make sense**

**It's broken and messy