Bitter Dippers Picked To Fit

Where are we when we ignite,
Those petty tit for tats that creep...
Into our accepting heads at night.
With neither one of us willing to bend,
Mending to begin a healing...
Our prolonged quarrels.

Where are we in our minds,
With a wish to find this time...
To become bitter dippers picked to fit,
In a sick shared nonsense...
That loves to heat slowly,
Until an explosion results from it!