I am so much more than a
shy, tongue-tied, closet poet.
That wears black like goths
and can light up a gloomy
day with just a smile.
My miracles are no less
Godly than the next man,
so if you try to treat me like
dirt on your shoulder expect
a magazine of poems to be
written about you;
the kind used to
feed rifles during war.
Because thats what happens
when you try belittling someone
that has the tongue of a sword
and the heart of a sniper.
#BOOM.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
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