Catharsis, is all I can ever say for this poem. It's the last poem, for sure, I'm wasting on them. For anyone who doesn't know who the hell "them" is you won't ever have to worry anymore, no longer will they taint these words, this body, this ink, this paper, this life, I'm too good for it. I finally realized it. You won't ever have to worry about me again, and I can claim that on life, I can say that proudly. They were just a child, but I was just as guilty for following along in their game, if they even knew they were playing a game, if they ever knew I was playing it with them. It's over. Thank God. It is finally over. I got it all out of my system, and thank God for those that went through this with me, though it is VERY few, and I mean literally few, who went through it with me.

"Paper Bag" is a metaphor, for all the anger and doubt and negative things that one goes through in life. I often say, if we had our own bags to breathe in and out of when we were feeling life cave in on us, then things would be so much better. I wrote a funny story about this first, about how life can get you down, anger can hold you back, and how some people are saints because they can deal with their anger or deal with other peoples anger and issues, and others...well they are kinda...let's not address that topic. If we all had paper bags to blow our anger and ire into, the world would be a better place, and after we released it all, we could throw it all away. This poem is very special to me, not only is it the last poem I'm wasting on wasted time, space, and love, but it's also a poem speaking in a new viewpoint, possibly tot he writer and person I have become, I can deal with things now, I feel empowered, I feel different, but in a good way, I can handle anything, any little problem, and I dare anyone to stop me. Damn, this feels good!