Being Wrong

I used to think
Destructive things
Were beautiful:
I would admire
The way
a candle would
Slowly expand
And turn in
On itself,
The brittle
And exposed
Roots of a
Tree upturned
By gale force winds
A spiderweb of
Shattered glass sat
perfectly circular
In a shop window.

I used to think
Destructive things
Were beautiful
But then I met
Destructive people
And looked at myself
In the mirror.

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