You clearly do not like the calm,
The quiet ways in which I speak,
Using my voice as soothing balm,
My posture small, my answers meek.
You seem to find my measured words
Passive attack, my response war
Because your replies mean to hurt
To open wounds, then dig for more.
I could turn round, my words could kill
(Easy for me fight, you know).
Instead I summon all my will,
Trying not to land a blow for blow.
Irrational and ugly, too,
Who I am desperate to fight–
But then I would be just like you
And two wrongs never make a right.
I walk away, silent retreat
The way to get my point across.
The method here–the game to beat
Is to serve you up with the loss.
My teeth too clenched, my hands a fist,
Endless furrows etched in my brow…
You won’t ever beat me at this:
Not then, not ever, and not now