If courage was a human being, he'd be ugly.
Courage would be obscene. He'd burn your ex-lover's letters without permission. Instead of passing you the dinner rolls, Courage helps himself. You say "God", and Courage says "Who?" He's inattentive, thick-necked, ham-fisted, and patronizing. Courage's face turns red when you say, "give me some air".
You say, "now I'm going to climb Mount Everest". And Courage will just say, "Why don't you just let me handle this. Okay, dear?"
Courage doesn't trust you with the car. Courage doesn't let you do the taxes. Courage tells you to wash your hands, and then wash them again.
Let me do something for myself once in a while. Why does it take courage to tell the truth? Why does it take courage to tell a lie? I'm not courageous, I'm just trying to communicate. I'm not courageous, I'm just a liar.
This is really irreverent. This is really vulgar. Courage isn't ugly, Courage isn't evil. I just want credit, I'm just selfish. Courage has good intentions, but Courage and I are strangers. We're not very civil. He walks on one side of the street, I walk on the other. We bicker about the weather forecast and the cost of gasoline.
The only thing I have in common with Courage is that we both take our tea without milk.
We don't date smokers. We have clean fingernails. We're broke.
I guess it takes courage not to tell the whole truth. I guess it takes courage to behave appropriately.
I'm sorry: this isn't a poem about courage, it's an apology.
This has been The Devastation Diaries.