War of the Words

We fight but it never

feels all right!

You tell me how much

you hated people,

and I tell you how much

I’d hated them too,

knowing quite well that I,

too was a person,

but forgetting that you

were one too,

and then I say

how exhausted I’d felt,

and you say that was who

we were supposed to be;

chronically tired,

and thoroughly bored,

we turn trivial skirmishes

into full-blown wars.

You keep hitting me

with lukewarm irony,

and that’s what people do

when they run out

of rebukes and begin

hoping for a truce.

These wars of the words

are never quick enough to kill-

a gash on the conscience,

a blow to the heart,

none the wiser,

none the worse for!

I end up in tears

over a tiny wound

on my ego,

while I watch you

tend to your bruises too.


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