Unspoken: The Anthology

The Right to Murder

They call me placid, they call me pure,
They laugh and tell me I'm not quite all here.
I put down my book, eyes to the sky,
Apologise to God and discard his advice.

My lips form a frown as I shake my head,
To live as I am is the same as death.
My tongue is a dagger, already sheathed,
My thoughts are a double-edged sword and shield.

I have one shot to get them to hear,
The blade stabs their hearts, cleanly pierced.
Their shocked expressions, my silent thrill,
The blood was always mine to spill.

It bleeds through their clothes, their futures are made,
Playing with knives is playing with fate.
They conceal the scandal with pitiful smiles,
But drop the facade and send me to exile.

They call me nomadic, they call me strange,
They still laugh but their intentions have changed,
I pick up my book, eyes on the page,
And flip off God with a smile on my face.