I Do Not Hunger For Your Unhappiness

My hands can gently hold.
Also ball into fists.
I refuse to lift my hands to hit.
I refuse that kind of anguish to sit,
Within me.

My tongue could be peppered,
Or honeyed sweet.
I could deliver bitterness,
Or clinch my teeth!
I could bite my lips,
And resist to throw a fit!
And I do...
With my legs.
Taking my heart away,
From all of it!

I will not entertain...
Your appetite for ignorance.
But I can.
I choose not to!
And I suggest...
You let this rest.
Since I've confessed,
I do not hunger...
For your unhappiness!

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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