I’m sorry for punching you last night but you did bite my leg before the game had even started.
It’s been a bad few days and perhaps, you know, I may have over reacted.
I’m sorry for screaming that word out loud before I tried to hit,
but the foul upon my foot, crushed every bone inside it.
It took everything I had not to rise and break the teeth,
of the moron with the muscles, whose brains are in his feet.
But I knew that he was stronger and I’m really not that silly
To pick upon the guy with the car but not the willy.
So battered and bruised inside and out I unleashed my rage on you.
You took it well, you didn’t yell, inanimate and proud.
Standing firm as bone hit wood, the noise was that of THUD.
I withdrew, my head held low, my knuckles red with blood.
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