Day Three

Look; an entirely appropriate sun,

As we gather ourselves to gleefully mourn

The Bad Should Ought Must.

A controlling parent, an ego state,

Habitual hangdog habitat,

The Finger-pointing Frowning Angry.

She cared for us destructively, nurtured

Us with blows about the amygdala

Shoulders up, hands on hips.

In six short weeks we've murdered her,

Redeemed the child that can't wish/hope,

No way! Begone the Please Don't Know Won't.

Be something else. Curious. Changeable.

Become the Yeah! I Want Wow Fun,

And bury her everyday in I Love Yous.