Push, shove, hit me once more.
The Lion who waits for you, stands at your door.
Red rash, scratch, bleeds till I’m sore
My mouth may be silent, but she’s keeping score.
Careless assumptions fly
like darts to my eyes,
While she’s steadying hers,
Aiming to pounce at your lies.
As I take in your cruel voice, with it’s ear numbing shrill,
Shes waiting to swallow you whole, Like a whale eats her krill.
Those heavy words from your mouth, the one you never pause,
May sting sharp like a bee,
But she’s sharpening her claws.
Open your door,
The Lion who waits for you,
Waits here, no more.
Lower your gaze, you narrow minded louse.
I thought I was a lion,
But, when it comes to fighting back,
I am really just a mouse.