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.
Deep, love it!!!
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Keep your knuckles bloody!
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That was quite the broadcast. Don’t fuck with that guy!
I love it!
Cheers! ^_^
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Keep your television on — you never know when a live broadcast will be televised!
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I think the next time I go out, I’ll leave my blood at home…just in case you are thirstly lurking about. 😀
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Boo hoo…no fun!
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I know I’m being a spoilsport, but I’ve grown rather fond of my blood and wish to keep it. 😀
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Blisteringly cold indeed.
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Don’t get frostbit!
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Well, I just started to wonder about your absence and secretly thought something was brewing in your fertile mind..I certainly was not wrong. Calm down my friend and look at the clear skies and the Aurora , visible possibly tonight (clouds permitting). Your poem is as gruesome as I was expecting. xx
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Everything is well! My knuckles just wanted to write something! Haha.
Good advice. The skies around here tend to be somewhat cloudy this time of year (unfortunately).
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I wish breaking news was in the form of poetry like that. The news wouldn’t be so boring, and I’d remember it.
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…And this poetic televised broadcast is just as violent as the real news!
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You’re hilarious.
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Don’t encourage me!…wait…please do.
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Bloody knuckle sammich!
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Come now, wouldn’t it be a cool thing? More jobs for poets!
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There’s nothing more brutish than knuckle vampires! Instead of sipping your blood, they beat the hell out of you for it. 👊🏾
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Fangs are so overrated!
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