Often I feel like people do not realize I am smarter than they think. Perhaps not in the way I handle math problems or in the way I act out.
But in the way I observe and listen when they believe I am not.
The way I take notice of things and keep that in mind for the next time, and the way I see what makes them tick, what makes them uncomfortable and where to hit to hurt.
I tend to know and knowledge is power, but it is also restrain.
I have bit my tongue many times to avoid saying something at the right time to hurt just where the skin is soft and the bone is fragile.
I am a demon with a sword but all they see is a dumb young girl. Sometimes I wish I could show them my bloody teeth as I rip them to shreds right where the wound is red and raw and too often scratched by words. I could rip it open all over again, and you would not see me coming.
You would never expect me.
It is my blessing and my curse;
I wish to hurt to relieve my own pain but I have been wounded so many times I cannot inflict a blow to somebody else
Though I long to bare my claws and rip out the goody-two-shoes so you may see the monster beneath.