Spats

Their fighting is your inner battle – your own malcontent

when the volume rises and their words get sharp

when your heart seeks shelter and your fingers flutter

let it roll over you

 

they’ll work it out with fists of hurt

and lash each other with words of stone

until they’re bruised and bloodied

 

let it roll over you

 

let it go

it’s theirs

not yours

 

 

 

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