I blink , it’s blurry , it streams
Strength is truly not measured in decibels
And Weakness not measured in tears
So I seamlessly flirt with both strength and weakness
The loud sound of my silence , of the quiet storms battering my heart
Of the chaotic tussle between moral and emotional right
Selfish , unfair , painful , equal
The battle grounds on which my will succumbs
Without the drama of white handkerchiefs and unfurled flags
But with the seemingly proud gait of a defeated warrior safe in the knowledge that the battle was waged with passionate hearts and clear minds
Young Queens eager for lands and Kings of their own bend their knees while their illegitimate would be Kings blink through their blurry eyes and dab the streams forming on their faces while cheering on
I blink , it’s blurry, it streams ; silently like it was forecasted by the seasoned weather man
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