Discordia
the more we talk of what it is
the more we know     it is not
Discordia
that waits for you to make a good point
          at the sky
                     with a sword
but guess whose face is up there, pops,
       You
open the doors of the advent calendar
Discordia
is hidden in more ways than five
has revealed
in an alphabet soup you slurp
letter by letter
telling a story of hide and seek in your parent's bed
and finding a broken condom
                            in your head
                                         Discordia