I’m not saying I’d fight for you, I’m just saying you’d want me toMature

My fingers are shaking but I won’t close the window.
I’m like that sometimes - stubborn beyond reason,
but it got me through more than one night when the sun 
didn’t want to rise.
People used to tell me that when I grew up, I’d wear down all my edges, 
I’d shrug off the hereditary temper, I’d bury the sharp tongue.
But I haven’t. 
Sometimes, at night, I file myself down to edges and cutting points. 
Sometimes, I drink myself into softness. 
I remember my grandfather saying once, “I’m too stubborn to die” 
and I’ve never forgotten it.

The End

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