{"sf1_id":1225993,"sf2_id":"B1QAPbE1","title":"Yours","author":"zetasyanthis","words":243,"posted_at":"2017-08-13T00:33:00.000Z","tags":["Anger","Poem"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1225993-yours","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/B1QAPbE1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/02/90/02908912-c623-4d14-b758-4fddb07b30cc","description":"#11 of Poems\n\nContent warning: Angry, vicious imagery.\nI originally wrote this back in March when I was extremely angry. I'm extremely angry today, too, but this seems like a good time to finally release it now that I've had some time to sit with it. And for any agents reading this, no, I have no designs on harming anyone physically. This is just an anger vent.","content":"Pitter patter, drip and drop  \nCan you see them? Can you not?  \nSee them spatter, see them fall.  \n\nSee them sprayed upon the wall.\n\n  \nSee those that your knives have cut.  \nSee their hearts and ripped out guts.  \nSee them fall beneath your sword,  \nall of them, across the world.  \n  \n  \nTiny rivers, crimson red,  \nflowing from the endless dead,  \njoin together, break your wall,  \ndrown you, drown them, drown us all.  \n  \n  \nSee the field to which they fly.  \nSee them stagger, shatter, die.  \nSee their parents mourn with grief,  \nfor their children, killed like sheep.  \n  \nSee them stagger; see them cough.  \nSee one, then another, drop.  \nSee your vic'try shaded red.  \nSee them all, your endless dead.  \n  \n  \nDoff the flags and ev'ry light.  \nHide the colors, oh so bright.  \nHope has left these lands, forsook.  \nBurn them now, our hated books.  \n  \n  \nKill them all who'd raise a hand,  \nevery one, across this land.  \nScythe them down like wheat and chaff.  \nIn your office, oval, laugh.  \n  \n  \nKnow that when your thugs are through,  \nthey will cower, black and blue.  \nSome of them will cling to god.  \nSpoiled, you'll not spare the rod.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \nAll of them to you are toys,  \nlittle girls or little boys.  \nAs for those now in between?  \nBeat them senseless. Make them keen.  \n  \n  \nHeed my words now, sharp as blades.  \nTake this shovel; dig your grave.  \nFor though you are last to fall,  \nstill your blood will paint that wall.  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poems","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1225979-defeat-is-not-surrender.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1226360-on-broken-wings.json"}}