Small Regrets

Why is this crafty long shadowed
Deception available to the
open mouth that lives inside our heads
alongside those spongy cerebral pillows?

What a disaster of latent whims
And intact insticts which somehow
Know the perfect moment
To be born.

These babies have no control.
They reproduce into
Evil alter egos and satanic twins.
Turning us into a joke.

And we wonder,
“What made me do that?”

Baby, it was you.
You made you.

You squared that equation
And produced a regret.