Battery

My fists are clenched

My blood is hot

The turn and run

Or stand and not

I see red

My mind goes blank

It’s only instinct

No time to think

I swing my fist

It connects

A warm shower

Dripping red

I swing again with no remorse

Allowing violence to take its course

Blood sprays at me

I taste the life

It slips away

No gun

No knife

Only my fists

My hands of stone

Deliver me from a fate unknown

Reviews

[Rob Santana]

Cool violent piece