flight

Of all the times in the world to be selfish,
You choose now.

My words escape me once more, and flight becomes the obvious choice. Afraid that if it is fight I choose, it might be rock bottom that breaks my fall.

But with flight also comes anger, stowed away from holding my tongue. How easy it is to just be angry, to stoke the embers that may soon turn into an uncontrollable rage. What is flight other than a disguised and withheld fight?

You chose yourself, and that is a good enough reason for flight-

from this until

no end.