I used to think you just wanted peace,
for your poor head was lopped off
by the bloodsuckers beyond the valley of the bears
you just wanted to die alone
wrapped in your veil of dignity
then
I'll read your wounded warrior prose
your madness ridden
bloodthirsty
slanted truth daggers
it's spattered your qwerty armor
you smear it into a picture
of a girl
standing, eyes closed
alone
on a tiny planet
the stars and moons hang
like all the prized heads you've slain

I wonder why you say you're tired
when it's obvious that your
head
has been replaced
with that chip on your shoulder
and
you'll be looking tirelessly
for
someone
to
decapitate

shame on me
for sticking my neck out

NB @ 7:45 PM

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