the wise
advice is to not send the letter,
the one you
write
with all of your complaints
and grievances
set out on paper,
not holding a thing back,
you've given
the recipient of the letter
their deserved
what for.
but the angel on your
shoulder,
playing his golden
harp,
says no,
while the devil with his
pitchfork
on the other shoulder,
holding his
hot pitchfork, says,
do it, do it,
gone on.
revenge is sweeter when
served
cold.
regret comes later after
it drops
into the big blue box.
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