Poetry

Two Way Street

When Courtesy is Mistaken For Weak,
When Mercy Becomes Hard To Leak,
When injustice breaks Barriers
Just as I may not confront or speak,
The Dam Goes On Filling Up High
The Pressure Turns Hard To Pass By
My Tolerance Is My Virtue,
Though It is Not For You to Chew.

Threshold is for a Purpose, for the Best,
Balloon is Fun when blown just Modest,
Needle a Little, and it would Burst,
I promise, You’ll Vanish with the Thrust,
When Your Malice Kills My Solace,
I Choose to Shout.

The Days When My Lips Were Locked
Now Rest in Peace in the Past.
I Have Had My Scars,
I Have Had My Wounds.
Patient and Pushover Are Discrete,
Peace Is A Two Way Street.


Photo Credit: gillnisha

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