a fistful of flowers

people often mistake
being polite and considerate
for weakness
not understanding that
it takes more effort
to not punch them
directly in their flapping
maw of self absorption
while nodding with a smile
acid etched over disdain

if you see me standing
silently trying to unclench
my shaking fists as i
avoid eye contact
it is because the struggle
to not send an asshole
into naptime is at war
with trying to remain
cool calm and collected

everyone has bad days
my mental unhealth is a
testament to this fact
but i still try to rein in
the need to enjoy the oh so
satisfying feeling of
a nose spreading itself
across the face of these
inconsiderate pricks
that take out their frustrations
on anyone unlucky enough
to step into their
line of misfired aggression
despite every synapse firing
a pummel the bastard signal

deep breaths
listen to the sparrows
send love to her
and avoid a weekend
spent in lockup
after dispensing justice
for those that are made
to be the victims
of misplaced anger

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