We can make it if we talk; but silences can kill.
Staying so pridefully mum saps everyone’s good will.
We should just lay it all out; yes, we should talk it thru.
Public praise & private criticism’s how we do.
No headway’s made when you’re waylaid imagining fights.
No harbored ways ease traveling days, if none think you’re right.
Too, secrets are no good long-term…they’re fierce poisonous.
Cancerous black holes of chokehold tension harming us.
You shot your shoot & missed; you were never near the court.
Up fly yet more walls, you’ll build your tomb out of your fort.
L.B.Stowe 