Wicked thoughts well up inside,
petty comebacks, cold and snide.
If you can't say something nice,
then don't speak at all.
Visions of driving your face,
through and through the wall.
I should bite my tongue 'till i loose all taste.
The lower caste should know their place.
For i am yours to despise,
less than human in your eyes.
I am the one that you chastise.
But i make an oath,
my inner decree.
I'll pop a glock,
before you bully me.
