Barbed

Barbed

I wanted it to be me.

Began with satire of truth

but soon became ruthless.

Created my own torture chamber.

There are four lights.

I built symmetry into chaos,

used words and music as weapons.

Double edged swords

Ripping into raw flesh.

Demanding.

There are four lights.

Left perfectly placed grenades

with clear powerful messages

each imprinted to explode

onto one person alone.

There are four lights.

Painted an explanation,

minus the excuse,

Commanding an apology.

Not Mine.

There are four lights.

Unleashed my anger

amidst hope, support,

understanding, and pride.

A different message,

for a different recipient.

There are four lights.

Poured value and importance,

determination, love,

dependability, and acceptance

like ocean water cooling

the volcano's firey core.

There are still four lights.

I said what I wanted to say,

answered everyone's questions

in 11 minutes,

and made my standing Crystal clear.

There are four lights.

I twisted visual media,

music with its own lyrics,

and written word,

fascinating myself by setting things straight in 11 minutes.

There ARE four lights.

But they blur together through tears.

When it touched you,

were there barbs, or flowers,

or was it just not there at all.