An appeal
A call for help
No, a call for justice?
No, it's a call for favor.
A plea, a whine, a whimper, a beg, an earnest imploration.
To administer your pent-up frustrations regardless.
To defy all graces of law and order and compensate thy selfish condescending disesteemed lust.
To step on other’s emotions, consciousness, conscientiousness, and feelings just to aright yours.
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Fire-Boltt Phoenix Ultra Smartwatch
An appeal?
No, a lure into conniving.
An appeal?
No. A drawl of revenge.
Lives about to be aborted in the process are as chaff in your sight
You would stop at nothing to get your wish
Erase mountains, turbulent seas, and roaring hells.
Acutely, you only desire to wield me as a plier for your best interest
With a sorrowful, pitiable, mournful countenance masked by a sneer, snicker, derided by derision you presented your disdain
“Please grant me this one desire”
One could mistake you for a repentant sincere person
So intentional about your ambition, others’ aspirations run futile
So determined that your callous actions you’re willing to justify
So bent you’re willing to walk any length
An enigma of sympathy you belie
A stomach of thorns without roses
A dough puffed by scars
An open injury
The stripes, stings, whips, the blades searing in your skin, the humiliation in the presence of your loved ones, daily entanglements, and embarrassments you've had to grit out all echo revenge.
But my hands are chained
Your request infallibly can’t be granted
Contacts and connections prove disposable at the moment
Disparity rushes like shockwaves through your body
And as quick as a flash, I’m the one with a gun put to my head
The enemy between your avenge and fulfillment I become
And until this matter is eliminated your thirst will only be aggravated
Luck I don’t wish you
Flight I encourage for you
Fights may endanger you
Remember, revenge is never the answer,
Walk away like they meant nothing.
There goes my last words…
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