Words

I stand there blood dripping from my veins.

Is this what you intended?

Is this your target practice?

See which words will make me bleed.

Fine.

I cannot defend myself.

My words will never be the precise knife you have shaped yours to be.

Mine are messy, wretched things,

fumbled broken things.

Fine. 

Let your words be the scalpel which cuts the tendons.

Let my silence be the coffin in which you die.