If I were speaking to him I would say
That I am dead with his weapon lodged in my throat
And I would ask him
To take it out.
In my first-person statement, I say
I am too sick
In mind, in heart
In my second-person, I state
You are my malevolence
And speak merely to enslave me
In my third-person, I cry
Those two, sitting just beside each other
Hate with the passion that sears from fire
If I were speaking to you I would say
That I am dead with your weapon lodged in my heart
And I would dare you
To take it out.
That I am dead with his weapon lodged in my throat
And I would ask him
To take it out.
In my first-person statement, I say
I am too sick
In mind, in heart
In my second-person, I state
You are my malevolence
And speak merely to enslave me
In my third-person, I cry
Those two, sitting just beside each other
Hate with the passion that sears from fire
If I were speaking to you I would say
That I am dead with your weapon lodged in my heart
And I would dare you
To take it out.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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