Allsorts of Stuff

Adrenaline – When he bites

I feel sickened a little inside, with Adrenaline when he bites back

Like a little puppy with an a wild angry imagination

A clinging thread to the past, he recalls the oldest insult and cowers behind the reality of inexperience on the battlefield of words

Yes he would far best me in a flight of the fists, but I do not lower myself to those heights


I might not throw a punch which seemingly makes you look tougher, little puppy

So naive in the world of stern words

A puppy, with a lot more bite than bark cannot find a way to win every battle

A bark with a subtlety unmatched by muscle will always be the victor


It does not aim to maim

But to change, or to cripple for life, a belief that you were stronger

I have heard the oldest insult too many times

I am bored of the little puppies left behind in the playground


I yearn for the company of a man who does not pretend

A woman who carries herself and would appreciate a man who needs not a bite of a rough puppy

But a real man, with words and clever wit that might cripple or delight at whim


Adrenaline is sickening when he bites, baring teeth and guns

But no writing on the bullets, just bare cold hard steel no flair, no talent, just aimless insults and a dash of history


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