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you always seem to be fighting these days
you're yelling again,
screaming again,
flailing your arms around
with explicit energy...
your face is red,
your eyes clouded and dark,
shine with rage....
i can see the artery in your neck,
pulsing, beating, straining
as if trying to escape
the confines of your skin...
you want me to yell back,
hit you,
argue against you,
i just want to get some sleep...
you lift a dinner plate,
and heave it in my direction.
the sun is shining,
i throw my bags
into the back of a waiting cab
i may be young,
i may be foolish too,
but i'm not the one who's wrong...
someone down the street spills a bag,
and peanuts fall to the ground
crushed, crumbling, battered, broken...
the cab pulls away,
and moves from the house...
the peanuts lay on the ground,
abused, abandoned, forgotten
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