Revenge

You know, I coulda left a jaw bleeding. But nah, I leave 'em hanging, exposing venoms hidden within a treacherous tongue, as my ink leaves these pages and splashes on your face

I coulda left a forehead bleeding. But nah, I leave 'em creased up, reflecting your frustration, when you visit your garden of betrayal and see no flowers, because my pen brings the sun, brings the heat, brings the fall, brings the wind, brings a draught, watch you seed of deceit head south.

I coulda left a stomach bleeding with multiple stabs, perfect comeback for your back stabbing. But nah. I leave 'em aching. Serve the poison of my words, forced 'em through your guts. My voice in rage a recipe for disaster, crafted into a weapon of terror. Hence when you see me on the mic that's your 9/11 coming way too early.

I coulda left a fist bleeding. But nah, I leave 'em clinched with blood red hot in that upper right limbic veins of yours. Stupid you would want to blow back with a glare and a fist full of air, but the sound of my words exploding will filters through the air. Like military drones you can stop 'em. You'll bleed tryna punch back, because the punchlines this time shall be on you.

I coulda left a kneel bleeding. But nah, I leave 'em froze up as chills run over you like a drunk driver. My thirst for your demise is on the rise, and the apetite for your dismay is frigging large. Hence my drive is extreme like the gas pedal is fully stomped. You having your cup running over with the bars I spit ,will stagger the hell home with two dawgs on both of your shoulders yet not enough wound licking will console you.

They say revenge is God's, but I'm feeling like a god tonight. I'm feeling like this fight is mine and I want to hit you on your spine where it hurts. Make sure you never recover. But dang, my folks are holding me with soft words like bro you better than this. You should know better than dissing a hissing stupid snake in the grass. Just left it pass.

Well, none of these has happened. Just me still contemplating, making notes for the music I'm orchestrating. But does it have to happen. Or maybe it's about to happen. Which would you prefer?

Well, pray I don't change my mind later... or ever. After all revenge is still a dish best served cold.