We fight.
We always fight.
And it always ends in me leaving,
Me yelling,
me slamming the door,
me crying.
And I hate that I'm so hard to deal with,
and I'm sorry...

I yell.
I always yell.
And it always ends up in you pleading,
you crying,
you apologising,
you shouting.
And I hate it when you cry,
and I'm sorry...

You try.
You always try.
And it always ends with us crying,
us hugging,
us forgiving
us talking.
And I hate that it takes so long for me to say;
*'I'm sorry.'

Why do I have to verse in
                           sequential motion.

Poetry is a hurricane within
                            silent altercation.

Arguing within ones voices
                           collectively stalemating.

But words drink within thoughts,
                           Spilling on exposed pages.

the first boy that kissed me
called me a **** and that is something
i will never forget

"fine, you win.  i'm done arguing with you about this"

it wasn't an argument.  

you just called me a **** and couldn't figure out
why i was upset.

Now you talk like that to me
All emotional and all impulsive
I am tempted to reply
In the same unreasonable way

But because of that
I will keep it back
Staying calm for a moment or two.

To find the right answer for you.

Oh, how we fall!
Back into our subtle brawl.
Of bickering and silent fits.
Of two at their last wits.
Oh, how we tried!
To just be on the same side.
But we're two separate countries.
Picking a different war monthly.
Oh, how I pray!
That one day we'll be okay.
That I won’t have to watch how I speak.
That I won't feel so left out of your clique.
Oh, why must I dream!?
Of something that will never be...

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but
Chaos, screaming, arguing, fighting
Until I saw you
And the mere sound of your voice
Brought silence to my world
And only then did I find peace

Yesterday was absolutely amazing.
Until it actually began.
Step dad was high.
Mom was angry.
The fought.
They screamed.
Everything blurred out.
Yelling
The
Voices
Panic attack.
I

Can't

Breath

Here.