Mosquito bitten bumps rise and falls
My finger tips pressuring soft cells
Hating how it feels as I take pleasure in killing
These wing foes
To them I am the terrorist with weapons of mass destruction
Not a terrorist of guns but one with pity and power to abuse
My feeling shift hotly from victim to symbolic hero
Everyone needs a bone toss in their direction
From the crude skeleton hiding within the dusty Shallows
Closet the feeling you gift to loved ones
Hush the happy times placed on the back logs of memory
Take note of polite strangers with words not your own
As I use them to speak a language taught to me years ago
When was my first word and did I speak it roughly as sandpaper
Or was it sweet to the ears with a buttery finish  
Am I too personal with my speech as this is all new to me?
Like a mouse with dreamy eyes watching the gleam off claws above
Silence is the key
Surrounded by much braver beast who riot into the night
I want to be heard