Jaden Rose


Toe-tapping twisting ballerina dance,
Back snapping,         shattered glass
Angry shards spinning,   twirling through the air,
Points sharpened,
Aimed at a head, yours,
who said “honey” like an insult,
so bad to be sweet, you say “smile”       and “baby”
Shocked to see
Fangs and bone inside my mouth,
Surprised my lips can open to speak,
Rage, unheard of in a woman, to you the inferior
does not know the meaning of words,
does not know condescension
when she hears it,
If you believe sweetness      an insult than I can play,
Shower you in knife-blades of sarcasm,
Ice-dipped pistols firing round upon round upon round,
Spinning and twisting my back
To roundhouse kick you between those eyes that would not recognize
And ears that would not listen.
Right in the face, the head of you who would not

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PoetryJeremy Bibaud