you seem to think
your pen is superior to mine.
your ink, golden
while mine is copper
that has been touched by oxygen
one too many times.
you seem to think
you can steal
my tongue,
as if it
belonged to you in the first place.
there i stood-
i almost let you wrap your
filthy,
selfish,
deceiving hands around my pen.
you tried to poison my blood with your permanent marker,
tried to write away my words.
thank god my ink will always win the war.
