hands occupied with blessings can’t hold any grudges
i live vicariously through the cuts on my knuckles
i wear a vision of war, recorded tears, and crocodile scales
glass embedded in my fists, wings made of scrap metal
in the screen, imps grin
hyenas dig the flesh of innocents out of their fangs
i hate the laughter of walking bonemeal, recanting their wicked speeches
inside my eyes are shards of a righteous sword
the sun breathes beauty, beauty that can not pierce my hide
flowers in my esophagus, but thorns are only what i speak
they cut the roof of my mouth on the way out, and blood tattoos my teeth
disgust is written all over her face; she only wants flowers, petals that smell of peace and love
she bleeds nectar, and her tears are a finite resource, a tragedy
my breath is eternal
war-torn knives are all i can muster, and my scales are caked with justice
i speak to birds, and they melt, leaving only steaming flesh and shattered bones
i am a venom breather, and my cure is tasting the heart of hate