Chapter 1: Lines
I feel that I’m getting close
to waving the white flag of bitter defeat,
as the limits of how far I can bend before I break
threaten to split what’s left of my resolve in two.
Would you show me mercy then
if I laid my heart before your feet?
Why would you when it’s your ultimate goal
to beat me down and revel in my defeat?
At what point was the proverbial line crossed,
when you said you drew it in the sand?
I don’t recall the moment we parted ways
and cast aside all our past happiness
for the sake of choosing sides.
What am I to do now
that my ally has become my enemy?
You’re a consummate foe with a familiar face
who rode into battle on the back of a Trojan horse.
To the beat of the war drums and my broken heart,
you intercepted my inner defenses
and smashed my emotional fortifications to bits.
So now here we are at the proverbial impasse,
and like sheaves of summer wheat
we have reaped what we have sown.
Divisive lines have been drawn
in a war of words fought on familial territory.
We’ve reached the point of past return,
where apologies and concessions will no longer suffice.
So here we are taking up arms yet again
as I brace myself for your next assault.
What will be the catalyst this time?
Or is it simply a pattern we’ve fallen into,
and like a vicious cycle endlessly on repeat,
we are doomed to a battle of words
that cut deeper than the sharpest knife.
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