MR. SORRY
Let me introduce myself, please.
I'm Mr. Sorry, the guiltier person in the world.
Firstly I caused pain to my parents, at the age of five.
Mum, Dad, I'm sorry about the beastie I became,
I'm sorry about all the tears falling from your eyes
(shouldn't my father be sorry about that old case?).
Secondly I caused pain to the three boys from Baker Street,
the three who always hunted me, tormented and mocked me.
I'm sorry about the beatings they received afterwards,
when I came home in tears, covered with bruises and scars over my heart,
and my mother got so angry she started to complain by their parents.
I'm sorry about the following hatred they felt towards me
(shouldn't they be sorry for the hell they made from my life?).
Thirdly I caused pain to another three boys, black-haired, brown-haired and tawny-haired,
because I feared they would reveal my condition and didn't trust them.
I'm sorry about the concern I always saw in their eyes (especially in the grey-ones),
the silent worries they shared with each other.
I'm sorry about the shock they received when they realized their suspicions were true,
when they first saw my marred and damaged body, right after the fulmoon
(shouldn't they be sorry about not hiding that suspicions of theirs and about causing me more profound fear?).
Fourthly I caused pain to my dearest friend, the black-haired, grey-eyed one,
when I harshly rejected his love confession.
I'm sorry about the hurt expression in his eyes he possesed and about the unshed tears, glinting in his grey pools.
I'm sorry about the mistrust I placed upon him,
about the turn-back and about avoiding him for a few weeks
(shouldn't he be sorry about all his randezvouses which made me feel unloved and unwanted, less open towards him?).
Fifthly I caused pain to him even more because of me being detached and unsensitive to his needs.
I'm sorry about the hard times that had to come and made me even more cruel and tired of his company.
I'm sorry about the suspicion I held against him, about my coldness, frozen heart and chilly looks just at the moments he needed me most
(shouldn't he be sorry about how he behaved these precise times, about the quarrels he initiated and about his final withdrawal?).
Sixthly I did cause pain to him again that night in Shrieking Shack, when I only embraced him like a brother and said nothing more,
I'm sorry about my broken heart.
I'm sorry about not kissing him right at the same place and same second I saw him, after those horrible thirteen years
(shouldn't he be sorry about looking at me with unusually serious eyes and with shy smile tugging at his lips?).
Seventhly I caused pain to who-but-him when I didn't do anything to prevent him from coming in that small chamber of secrets.
I'm sorry about not holding him in my arms the night before, about not assuring him of my oh-so-persistent love.
I'm really sorry about him feeling so alone that he had a urge to put himself in jeopardy to prove me he didn't need my presence any more.
I'm sorry I couldn't stop him falling in the middle of nowhere, about me not holding his hand when he was struck suddenly and definitely
(shouldn't he be sorry about not talking to me and about his hidden thoughts?).
Eightly I caused pain to my love when I burst into tears immediately after he reappeared.
I'm sorry about the wave of emotions which threatened to drown me forever, and about the tremble too.
I'm sorry about the hungry, passionate kisses I coverd his lips, cheeks and eyes with, and about the smile he gave me – half joyous and half unsure
(shouldn't he be sorry about the four months I had to spend without him, about nearly killing me with emotions he coaxed from my mind?).
I caused pain to my darling
and yet he has forgiven me,
gave me his love, body and mind again.
Yet he returned to me and offered me his open arms
to hide me before the unchanging and unchangable world.
Let me introduce myself, please.
I'm Remus Lupin,
the guiltiest and the happiest person in the world.