What empowers you to spit these poison-laced knives into my chest?
Where did you get the training equal to special forces soldiers or terrorists?
Numb to the idea of lives being lost, blood being shed. Someone’s son or daughter dying.
Rather, the only information being processed is:
And now you have me in your cross-hairs. At times a bit trigger happy, but you pick your moments.
Headshots are too overrated. You manipulate people’s minds for a living.
You want the heart.
You want the emotions
You want their future.
You want it to hurt.
You want to see them hurt.
A target worthy of taking joy that you’ve attacked it. Cut. Stabbed. Wrecked.
Because its been done to you.
The Revenge of the Punching bag.
You know all the moves. You know where it hurts and precisely how to hurt it. No wasted time or energy.
They never saw it coming. That inanimate object springing into life to take it.
Not talking to or seeing me,
But just reciting the lyrics of the songs being played in your life headphones all this time:
You’re so stupid, you’re worthless, why do I even tolerate you?
Reenacting the movie scenes projected on your brain’s prison. Seeing people you care about abused because Pain was the only cinema you ever knew.
The Screams of the speakers.
The Film never-ending.
The actors so familiar.
And most times we don’t even have to look too far,
but straight into the mirror.
Ephesians 4:32 – And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.