If I could slap your wicked face.
If I could stamp upon your head.
If I could throw you to the ground.
If I could push you in the mud.
If I could watch you fall down.
If I could put staples through your balls.
If I could trample on your heart.
If I could ignore you in the hall.
I would never truly be satisfied.
Tonight I sat in a pub with people from Scouting to discuss Scouting…and yet I was also surrounded by people I went to school with. People who made my life a living hell.
I’m not a horrible person. I wouldn’t really do anything of the things above…but the way it made me feel to sit facing those people, as they stood on the other side of the room laughing and being idiots, sometimes I wish I had the balls to.
It doesn’t rhyme, it probably doesn’t fit the If poem, but it’s all I could come up with.