The Silent Storm Inside My Arms
You haven't won.
My will is not dominated,
My resolve is not weakened.
You struck first,
My back now against a wall.
A cup, tipped over,
But not all of the liquid has escaped.
I pick myself up.
There is a silent storm inside my arms.
You shoved me, I should break you.
It's push come to punch in my own mind.
But I won't, because I care.
I care for the people I love,
there now, resisting my intent.
I care for my environment,
And the negative effects that would be brought upon it.
But mostly I care for you.
I have been trained many years of my life,
in ways of doing harm.
And though you have mistakenly judged this book by its cover,
it's merely a story I want you to read.
Though I am confident that your hurt would be greater than mine,
I will let your territorial pissings hold.
But don't smile,
Because I have won.