Does he make you write?, they asked
They knew, how did they
That you drive me to the solace
Of the blank sheet
Scribbled over with the
Black hurt that could not be contained

Oozing, through accustomed pores
It rorschachs into words
That you will never see.
As you cannot see the ones
That started it all
Were not what you saw at all

Irrascible, Intractable,
Picking for a fight
If that is what you want,
I have a choice.
But if it is the other
I am powerless to resist…


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