18 stycznia 2012
Fight in the Making
I clench my fists tight,
I feel fired up and able
To bash him with all my might
Like I bash my fists on this table.
His words hurt and pierced me
Like a knife that cuts one dead.
I breath heavy, slowly...and deep,
As I write a letter in my head;
'Dear God, please
Let me smack him in the jaw.
I'm waiting, I'm teased,
Forget the parents' house laws.'
As I pen this poem in rage,
I grind my teeth like hard rocks scraping.
I walk away from this page
Because there's a fight in the making.