Mysticism
Twisting,
Turning,
Vying for Glory.
Staying Polite
For as long as they Can.
Hearts Begging
'Hurt them!'
Mouths staying Calm
Fake on the Surface
Rattled within.
Dying to Strike out
Held back out of Caring
Nothing's as Simple
As the thoughts
They're not Sharing.
It's not One-on-one,
There's always a Third
One stuck
In the middle
With Pain
Gone Unheard.
Back to Yak Spit
