Communicating with You



All these words come pouring out

Like booze from the bottle,

Screams from the bereaved,

And some things aren’t throttled.


You take me with a grain of salt,

But I know you haven’t been

Walking the same bitter earth

And dark hour I’ve lived in.


So when we are done sparring

With syllables and sentiments,

And supporting self-aggrandizement

With our petty resentments


Maybe I’ll hear you, really listen,

And maybe you could lower your defenses

To see what I’m weaving isn’t

Dangerous or wild or senseless.


We could commune

In honesty of thought and speech,

And love could end the war;

Love could bind the breach.

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