The Last Time

Verbally lay your hands on me once more, and I swear you won’t get them back.  You mistake my intentional defense as symbolic of offensive lack, but the actual fact is that God has had yo back, and each time I geared to incinerate you, He parked me… You throw all that weight around, thinking that nobody wants to Kung Fu a sumo wrestler, but fool I’ll do you one better.  I will blindfold myself, tie one hand behind my back, and bind my feet in leather.   Pick the weather.  Hang me from a noose, and I’ll still have enough breath to strangle you, toss me out the hot air balloon without a parachute, and I’ll still dangle you, estrange you, and leave you for dark angel food.

The purest face of fury is purely without expression.  Open your mouth to speak, and you’ll find yourself choking on my own lesson.  You pitiful wretch, wretching up words as toxic darts, not recognizing how powerful they are, I’ve been holding back, but now I shall consume you like an exploding star.  Your every move I’ve prepared for.  Your spontaneous ones I fear not.  Frivolously you have battered my emotions and psyche, tossing around Pandora’s box, now Pandora is fed up and has popped the lock.  No pass code, no secret identity, can keep a secret of what I do to my enemies.  Proudly you drew your line in the sand proclaiming your enmity, and I hope for your sake you took a picture of it, because… that’s likely to be the last line you ever draw.

Take a look at the clock… This could be your last time.  Recite your favorite song – that could be your last rhyme.  Kiss your sweetheart – that could be your last goodbye.  Begin to woo the ground, because this could be the last time you see the sky… The brightest light casts the darkest shadow, and at supersonic speeds, it has wrecked all that you’ve hallowed, and Halloween suddenly appears darker than it seems, because you single-handedly turned this nightmare into your daydream.  Hurts don’t it?  And the worst part is – it can only get worse.  Your forced your hand into the hearse, now you’ve contracted death – my farewell curse.  I warned you – not to lay a hand on me.  Now I have four hands, and two hearts – and you are left suffering in the aftermath.

You have wounded me for the last time.

**

~The Wordsmith

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s