poem

Dramatic Irony

 

I will be punished for the few minutes

I take to write this.

I know, because it happened yesterday,

and the day before, and five thousand times.

 

Tomorrow all day I will bear this punishment,

until I can barely stand it. Then, daylight,

and I begin my nightly reascent to grace.

 

Here I am now. In grace.

For this, I will be punished. Tomorrow.

 

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