When heavens rain brimstones,
I’d pray they ply on your flesh;
and imprint therein the scars you left in
Grinning at the pizza box of pretty bees—
designed specially for you,
I count my bullets humming love songs
I thumb my gun singing carols
In trancelike scenes, I ponder how to scar you—
Should I make him hurt himself while I watch ?
Or cut him slowly with a blunt knife after severing his limbs like carrots
So sweet his screams sound
Can I even hurt a fly ?
Okay I can, but maybe not a man
I can let go, I can forgive maybe,
Maybe if I am a monk
But I’m no monk, for even monks are no gods
Right now forgiveness looks hazy—
like a blur in the rain, like a mirage on a sunny day
Right now the burden of not forgiving seems easier than the pain of forgiving
You deserve to be punished!
Forgiving you is the best punishment
I will give you for my scars
I am letting myself off the burden
The hunch is now on you
Till you come to me as the king of scars.