:> "Now, bec^use I ^m sc^red of time ^nd how it moves, I look down ^t my fists th^t didn’t ^lw^ys w^nt to, but h^ve hit so m^ny friends th^t the broken knuckles look like bruised m^gnoli^s. Listen to me, Ple^se, when I knock or b^ng on the t^ble or door ^nd beg for ^ttention. Ple^se, I don’t know how to ^sk for forgiveness. I don’t know how to let ^nything go." Tonight's poetry snippet is crisp ^nd str^ightforw^rd in how it de^ls with violence ^nd the fe^r, loneliness, ^nd helplessness th^t often fuel it. These lines ^re from ^ much longer poem c^lled "Sc^red Violent Like Horses." It is poign^nt, I feel - I m^y enjoy violence, but I ^cknowledge it is often ^ fl^wed response to one's emotions, ^nd this explores ^ few different ^spects of why. <:
.) Qh, this Qne is, like, super interesting! It really makes yQu think! ))
:> Yes. Not the most pretty or comfort^ble of poems, but ^n import^nt one. <: