Foreign room
Few miles from home
And you cursed at this precious
Curly haired girl
And I thought kill
Saw red.
Instead I said out.
You apologized to her.
I closed my eyes to you.
Out of the pack, you are thrown.
No longer under the umbrella
Of my understanding and love.
There is something primal in this rage.
So great and without relent.
It grows over 9 months plus.
Cut open and thrust to the world.
She is mine and I am hers.
Always.
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