Violence

I’d love a divine hand to come down and slap you silly.

I want you to know you’ve done a bad thing,

I’d like you to really feel it and know it was from me.

My gift to you would be that knowledge,

Your gift to me was a stagger and a flinch.

Your soul is marked, not mine.

I’ll grow violets among your violence,

How dare you raise your hand to me.

 

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