If my pen could sputter bullets
How I would riddle your frame
With a thousand heated words!
If I could ink, now, scalding acid,
Would I not drown your greedy throat
That your tongue may lie no more?
If only could rhyme you death
And enjamb your stolen laughter
With spells of lingering tears!
My pen bears not Merlin's spells
Nor my ink the curse of death.
Still, I shall curse you to your grave.
My words shall steal into your souls
And be the worm that eats out
The vegetable's life from within.
I shall write, verses to make you
A blank verse, empty, dark -
A shadow that walks the day.
I'll rhyme your day into dark night
If your lips shall not swallow their lies
And your hands, return the stolen dreams.