The Bully, The Victim, The Legend

He carries his words

like a fist in full clench:

shaped like his childhood, 

he grew up to become the hand.

He says they just don’t understand

the pain that they had caused him.

splinters stretched into stab wounds

He edits the truth until it fits

his mouth like a prayer. 

paper cuts padded into heavy punctures

And it doesn’t matter if you see

the wreckage in real time,

a match’s flame embellished into forest fire

no matter how many punches

slip through gritted smiles, 

he’s assured only his version is heard 

of a tale woven in his mind of the martyr.