The High Road

Oh the things I could have said During the heat of our wrangle I kept tact and class instead Of controlling every angle For every grenade you threw I had two more on my belt I chose to let yours accrue Just to see how you felt I took the high road To say the very least I could have leavened my load Your humility, my feast Instead I kept picking up The insults that you threw down Refilling the cup You would spill on the ground Hours you must have dedicated Digging for bones in my closet You must have left so frustrated From chomping at the bit I imagine a jarring epiphany Leaving empty handed A truly tearful symphony Not the way you planned it Quarreling with a nun Produced no satisfaction When your rant was done You lacked my reaction Surly you know what I left out The words to fill in the blanks The severity of stupidity so very stout You will walk your plank