What would you have me say?
You have your weapons drawn
with your intentions clear to use them
and I must answer for my motives?
I wish to walk the world I was born into
and enjoy it while my senses are still sharp.
Some great offense I must have missed
by my own perception, clearly was not unnoticed
but it begs the question,
how long have you been waiting for a misstep?
how much time and energy do you spend
polishing armor and training with spears?
have you grown so weary with fatigue
from restless nights of paranoia
that you mistake a nomad for a daemon?
would my blood do something your mothers could not –
raise you into a man?
the only blood you’ve spilled in your life is hers.
Stabbing at shadows cause you’re afraid of the dark…
do you see me with a weapon in hand?
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