First Fight.

I don’t know why we’re fighting but he’s crying.
He’s not ashamed to cry because he’s too young to hide it.
Every Man I ever fought was crying.
Every Woman too, just not with fists.

He’s bigger than me.
He’s a lot bigger than me.
I can’t afford to stay still because he’s strong and heavy.
This was the first time I moved quickly and I learned it with my body, forever my strategy.
Keep moving, make them tired.
Frighten them with the sting.
It only takes one.

He keeps crying, swatting at the air because he’s scared now too.
I’m scared, but I’m just scared AT him.
Now I’m the bully.
Now I’m enjoying it.
I feel guilty and my rage dies.
I’m not in any danger anymore.

I run away. Round the side of the house to the front yard. I know I’m not supposed to go but I also know how to get home.
We’ll both get in trouble anyway. For fighting.
I run home.
I feel alive but sad at the same time.
I didn’t want to hurt you my best friend.
But you can’t attack me.
Nobody can attack me.
I’m a monster.
Don’t make me show you.

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