Stab, by Math Jones

I am not a silent poet

like i’m angry
but it fits in my pocket
can’t have the disrespect
got the mind got the man
enough to mean it
don’t have the discipline
not to use it though

carry it like i mean it
wear it inside, like a sabre
bring it out, let it flash
light will make them run
step back step up like
i’m showing them something to run onto
like they’re going to get their’s out anyway

’cause of fear of a flash of silver
it’s a spill and you can’t catch it
in your hands can’t control it
in their hand can’t dodge it
too quick can’t feel it
like spit but sharp
reflex stab

and now i’m open
and my hands can’t catch me
my clothes are soaking me up
and cold blows in
floor falling
all the screams

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