On My Own Accord

Take back the gifts and your filthy excuses,

Don’t count me in when you’re counting on your muses.

They say men like you never face the music,

But I wonder if you’ve learned just how short my fuse is.

Take back the epithets and idioms you used,

Whisper my name in your nightmares as you look for clues.

My knees aren’t broken, they’re lightly bruised,

And I’m guessing you thought I’d be a softer fool.

Take back the lustful stares and the touches,

I’ll never think about you when my blood rushes.

Well, that’s a lie, I spew fire and it catches,

I could fill a stadium with the sound of your shushes.

Take back your threats and sharpened words.

If you want to fight me, don’t do it with swords.

My tongue can take out men leading your overlords,

So, I’m guessing that you know by now –

I’m taking it all back on my own accord.

-JW