How little you know,
you poor ignorant soul.
You spoke with a mouth full of hate,
your body shook with might
as you tried to instill me with a certain fright
as if I might finally bow down to your glory,
kiss your feet, and say that I am sorry.
Yet here I stand,
the knife in my hand,
it is my turn to tell you the story
of how I became so grand!
Your words filled me with a certain spiteful motivation,
one that has led me to a compelling revelation!
I now have you in my hands,
you are now mine!
You shall see,
you poor little flea,
you are only but a pest!
You have no influence over me!
Nobody can deny my power as I watch you cower,
you poor pathetic pest,
now you kiss thy feet!
-k.p. 11.27.15-