Most days I am Jekyll, sweet of character and kind to all,
But there is a Hyde waging war inside,
An inner temper and fight that seethes within,
like itchy lava pushing at the pores of my skin.
A restlessness that won't right until I fight,
But Jekyll shrinks to hurt a living soul,
So Hyde wages self-war in forms of self control,
Because the lava inside cools when sweat chills my brow,
Pound the lava through shoes on a street,Until Hyde slumbers inside his cooled skin,
Dribble the lava into a ball on a court,
Ink the lava onto a page with a pen,
Grind the lava through pedals on a bike,
Punch the lava through mitts on a bag,
Slice the lava through laps in the water,
Sing the lava through keys on a piano,
And Jekyll comes to smile at everyone again,
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