A Blank mind, wit cloudy vision the satisfying crack of a mean collision from an elbow swung, or punch thrown and in my ears, a buzzing drone! I breathe deeply, and start 2 think of how I was pushed, to the brink I really do regret it now I'd fix it but, I don't know how But it feels so good, at the time but the mind doing it, isn't mine It's not the nice sweet child with polite voice, and manners mild But which am I and which is me? Which one of those am I going to be? The child, who's weak yet nice? Or the monster, that nobody crosses twice?