We both want the same thing, day after day
Love, a sense of worth, and to be understood
But we don’t know how to get it or give it
Even though we continually look
We’ve been hurt in the past on many occasions
And must hold our defenses to protect from the dagger
Thus quietly begins our cautious game of interaction
We continue on calmly, rounds of pleasantries exchanged
Until one round, by accident, touches my most sensitive button
And oblivious to what is occurring below
My mechanism of reaction is cocked and ready to fire
Without my consent, it unloads a series of volleys
And with it is packaged my keyboard of power
My close friend and companion is quite unsuspecting
As I successfully trigger her mechanism too
Returning along with her barrage of bullets
She unwittingly mails her keyboard as well
We carefully advance to the next series of events—
A choreographed play of intricate design
Acting as puppets in a well thought out display
She triggers my mechanism causing me to trigger hers
Unintentionally, yet professionally staged
We pawns are the writers, not knowing we have parts
Both holding each others’ keyboards of power
We menacingly take pleasure to press all the buttons
We both wince in pain as we trade off our rounds
The destructive cycle circles on, neither aware
The keyboards serving as voodoo dolls of power
Until we both lie wounded on the ground
From this, how do I get the love that I want
And the understanding I was seeking in this cruel play?
A change of heart overcomes me, and my keyboard dissolves
I rise up in power and stretch out my hand
Her defenses drop too, her keyboard disappearing
My new actions change hers, and the embrace comes soon after
To be loved and understood, I dropped my defenses
Dissolving the keyboard as well as my trigger
My trigger could only give me more pain
Because the only way to receive love is to give it
But my trigger only gives anger in return
–Jason Westlake
October 17, 2006
