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Eye Level.

Thin ice cracks beneath soles,
though its not breaking
below me.

On the tip of my sharp
tongue now, seething, teething,
I bite down
until it bleeds.

Fire within begins to rise,
push it down just to survive.
Fist in my gut
I have held clenched
for so long, tenses, shudders,
itching to fight.

So close, if I put
my foot down
then we would be so
much farther away
from our fragile state of okay.

The child within
wants to scream in your face,
falling back,
then is now again.

Why should I even care
about this anymore?
What do I keep
fighting this for?

Thought this was over,
thought we had grown.
I fear that some things will
never change.

So go on, recall
the past selectively,
rewrite history
right before my eyes.
We’re both older,
that blame game is over,
but when we don’t see
eye to eye

don’t pretend you’re the one
that’s looking down,
high above, an owl so wise.

Age alone is not the antidote
for closed hearts and minds.


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