My weapon sounds like a whip
when the strap hits my palm
wild satisfaction when it lands with a CRACK
oh, dear god its so good to be back
one, two, three, catch
whoosh repeat.
one, two, three, thud
wood smacks my bone
better than the dirt
I go back into my rhythm
as bruises start to form
Turning anger into beauty
and beauty into art

They say to lay down your guns
but instead I throw them up