Good Ol' Boy

A story of revenge...

Your hatred was power.  A power so strong that it swept my soul’s soldier right off of his feet, and  directly on his a*s.  My soldier sat there…tangled amongst the knots in my stomach.  The knots that your delicate hands tied inside of me.  Old, shriveled hands of a witch or a wizard, weaving webs of dark magic and sending your spiders out like Nazis to kill us all.  It was your ignorance that beat me like a stray dog and left me whimpering in the streets.  And you continued to kick, long after my body was limp and swollen with bruises from your boot.  The air of midnight brought a bite of frost so cold that your words clung to the concrete like ice lying next to me, and together we laid there and made amends.  I would die.  And you would live.  And with our new-found compromise…the world would end.  And as we lie there together, your dark, evil spell made love to the light that I once gave like charity.  You entered me and spilled into me a sick, sour, syrup that curdled my insides and made me vomit.  You were the ipecac that cleansed my toxic trust in a world of betrayal.  And when you were finished, you wiped yourself clean and walked away.  Leaving me with the fear that someday you would return.  And my soldier would not be there to protect me, and my dog’s bark would be silenced.  Dear sir, here is what you do not understand.  I built the ammunition that my soldier holds.  I filled its chambers with my own two hands, brilliant bullets of bravery. And I trained this dog you see, I taught him all of his tricks.  What you need to understand, sir, is that I trained my dog to sit, shake, roll over, and play dead…and what a good ol’ boy he is…