Is this an olive branch I see,
Or some barbed stick to beat me?
Not seeking an apology that once,
You gave so freely.
The viciousness of your attack,
Would break the back of lesser men,
But I am made of more.
The crown for hurting,
And the OBE,
Well won,
Fair play,
But they are yours.
Perhaps they open doors,
But not mine anymore.

I think you’re better than that.
Maybe not.
Maybe I was wrong all along,
But I do know you once shone.
Take care with that knife you got.
The sharpest steel
Draws most blood.
You cut me deep.
I guess I healed.