It's interesting how we terminate relationships on a whim.
Goodbyes, hellos, again and again.
Our words grow walls.
Our silence, space.
We turn sides like coins,
and round hurts like armies.
We draft all who'll join.
Don't agree, you'll be sorry.
Our looks aim as bullets.
Weapon in position.
5, 4, 3, 2,
Wait,
Something's trying to abort my mission.
It's a little girl.
One of theirs.
No matter,
We'll just attack on the other side
But she motioned over still in front and started to cry.
When she looked up, I saw compassion and fear in her eyes.
I saw struggle from years burst open in side.
I then knew it was never about me,
or past disagreements,
or trivial fights.
It's about who it hurts,
and who can make it right.
Then I called off the attack,
disarmed and turned towards the little girl.
She was no longer there, but neither was my revenge,
toward former friends, toward the world.
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