Cold Words: Bloody Knuckles

 

** We interrupt your regular scheduled programing, and are now bringing you the latest breaking news! A Cold Word's literary warhead froze the minds of innocent civilians—casualties are estimated to be in the millions. Read the following statement from the safety of your bunker: **

 

Stare me down.

I’ll knock you down.

Face-to-face.

Eye-to-eye.

Let’s fight.

Punch me and I’ll punch back.

My knuckles want to swim in the red flood.

They need to sip on your blood.

You’ll never keep me down.

I’ll always stand back up—

wanting more.

Go ahead. Try and cage me.

Untamable.

Go ahead. Try and kill me.

Unbeatable.

My hatred.

Undeniable.

When I see your face…

my knuckles have something to say:

“Your blood is something I want to taste.”

You’ll be taught the lessons of pain.

You’ll understand agony.

You’ll study defeat.

I’m going to teach you.

Listen closely.

The air in your lungs belong to me.

I’ll jab your stomach.

Knock you down in the mud.

My knuckles are hungry for something—

Your fucking blood.