How does it taste? The blood in your gums.
Cut by barbed words as they've tried to run.
Poison and fire dripping from your tongue,
Causing pain your last idea of fun.
How does it look? The claws on your skin.
No comfort in your touch, just burns and sting.
Coz armour's overrated if you really squint,
Offence over defense if you wanna be king.
How does it feel? The fire in your gut.
All those nasty things calling out for blood.
The urge to destroy in groups and gusts,
All that was good dropped with a thud.
YOU ARE READING
Scattered Ponderings
PoetryA single note, it reads *Remember to write something profound here* (cover credit is to @adnali - if anyone's reading this, check out her stuff, it's so good) (spn & fandom is marked in title)
