Splitting
I operate in abundance of extremes,
Flirtish to skittish; kind-hearted to mean
I am a tolerant bigot or a emotional stoic
Yet everyone around me don’t even know it
The tug-o-war of conflicting interests
Both teams in an endless contest
To control my fast twitch reflex
Of my best defence; verbal offence.
Shutting people down from entering my mind
When I see the pity form their beady eyes
I don’t know if it’s pride or loathing
When my tongue cuts words foreboding
the demise and destruction of myself and others
But I move forward for my mother and brothers
And with the numbers of loved ones that every day grows
I need not fret of ever being left alone.
Copyright © Brother Bhunru | Year Posted 2022
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