Sticks And Stones

Sticks and stones murder me. 

My words cannot kill you without a grin,
the blood is not on my hands.

The shattered glass is better than the ashes in the can.
The wall you build should be the only fallout.
However you stole one brick and ruined the building.
The gestures you present.
Are slowly moving trains and highway signs.

Like a gasoline to your line.
The hope that death may cleanse me.
Dying in the flames of agony.
Maybe I'll turn black and eat your white wolf.

May day the wolves are starving!
My hope is that you burst in flames!
The world deserves a better tomorrow.
Than the one currently present in demurring mind, that places not your own illusions as you sit and bake.

Taste the blood of.... a God you never carried.
But a parasite was always a parasite.
As a maggot cannot ingest.
The taste of burning, may light your city.
But the flames of your building.
Is your own flesh and blood.
Cut into summer daze.
With one million sores.