One Last Round

One  Voice
I feel it building up, bubbling up, looking for my weakness

From the pit of my stomach into my chest

Desperate to break free, let loose, escape my hold

Slip from my lips, released from my fists

Power and vengeance and fury and chaos

The swelling and longing, finally burst out

At the tiniest pin prick, the lightest touch

Not what I expected or even feared

Too much to remember, or consciously aware

The end, the conclusion, the final act

Is sorrow, confusions, frustrated targetless anger at self

The brilliant foundation for just another, one last round.

Published by One Voice

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