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  • Writer's pictureKyx


fist fights with your bare hands

smashing till your knuckles bled

looked around the crowd, no tears shed

punched through life with no plan

for luck, i knock on solid wood

hammer till my knuckles bruised

but i always doubted it had any use

till it brought along something good

now we soothe injured knuckles

with each other’s soft fingers

security like a safety buckle

wrap around each other and linger

till arthritis in your joints spells trouble

that's fine, open wide; i'll feed you dinner


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