Ball of yarn

We each have shiny weapons, To twist plots and fit our frame; And as we spill our language out, They heat swift in fiery pain. Yet, even when not utilised, Firing-pins placed on the floor, Oft miconstrued, the words, the voice, Spew forth as something more. For we control what we control, And our fears…

The key

There is a key to a piece of my heart for the one; the one who says, “Daddy.” The one who’s my son. So when searching for love in this heart just for you, know that my little boy has a piece of it too. MT