If I don't acknowledge you

the voice with your words and ideas

Timber fallen awkwardly stuck in the muck, you pay no attention

No expression, words, or ideas from my voice

You should know, but don't, that I, too, have neither
the ability to forgive nor react peacefully on my own

Awareness gifted by grace is the secret power
acknowledged by too few
who sense and bristle at the unwelcome narrow-minded presence
within the cramped territory of what is and what should be

So, I can love but not acknowledge without relying on my
instincts that had rather trap you
with the rapid strike and snap of jaws lying in earthly wait
created to destroy with ease

With enough time for you to realize the eyes and power of what you
narcissictically deemed a dead log now devouring all
that was ever you because
you are prey once awkwardly stuck repeating with the voice that I
no longer wish to hear

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