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I fight at every turn.
Always so difficult and contrary.
I push and I wrestle,
Always testing.

I don’t settle, I can’t be quiet.
Being still is hard.
Then you disarm me,
Glue me to one spot.

A hollow of calm,
A rock in turbulent water.
Waiting me out
Knowing I exhaust myself.

A quiet clearing where I can rest my head.
Maybe I don’t always have to fight.