withheld

boom boom kaboosh
standing
and staring
at those people
like they're insects.
flying around you till their heart's content,
knowing you can't do anything about it but just
stand
and stare.
even if you could, he wouldn't.
too much at stake? the pride? the face? the humility.
hit by hit you take, wondering
how much longer can you stand this?
fueled by anger,
the gentle, comforting hand
that once encouraged, enlightened,
is the very hand that unknowingly formed into a clenched fist,
holding nothing but
what else.
enrage
a knock in the face? what is that going to do?
a subtle smirk?
what is that going to prove?
superiority?
power?
satisfaction?
perhaps,
maybe for a moment.
but still, all this thinking and no action
is he giving you a challenge?
how much patience must you hold inside to see it through till the end?
so you,
hold on a bit longer
and see what happens.