I tried so hard to be good.
I really did;
to keep my comments inaudible,
to smooth the curl of distain
from my lips and nostrils.
I can't really help myself,
despite the kind of intentions
that de-motivate me
to give myself away
in small, bloody strips
to anyone who asks,
and some who don't.

[nothing helps]

I've tried to put everything
in the right place,
to find order, accomplishment,
accommodate.
Never to upset
the carefully orchestrated atmosphere
of those I attend to,
but could not help.

[this is an ugly thing]

Happiness could be yours,
absently.