How wicked of a thought must you have to jostle a mind already organically filled with evil?
What is your terrible longing?
Piercing butterflies to save and study beauty you will never possess?
Plucking feathers from wee birds because you will never fly?
The truth is no matter how much you ply yourself with alcohol and other forms of courage I will always call your bluff.
You hit me in the face with your fistful of bad words but just what do you think you shall inflict on me with your vulgarity?
You are as threatening as a damp sweatshirt.
I am not afraid of you.