I hate it...
when there is conflict.
when I have to mediate.
and when it isn't even necessary
at all.
And yet,
and yet--
it is a way of letting things out:
disclosing
secrets
secrets
s
ecret
s.
But what of me,
no-conflict-please me?
For under conflict,
there are more
unsaid,
hidden
deep
deep.
Words can rent the air and rip the soul
but the lingering gaze can paint
still more.
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