battle

the froth of anger recedes, hurt steals in. my skin florid with shame my lips quiet, but for ‘why’. arrest the tremors that control my hands restore to me my apathy; it is my bastion. my heart is plaid with love and hate, fangs of ambiguity gnaw at the ropes of my convictions. isolate me from myself that I might prepare my defense. his strategy baffles me. © tlp 2010