Self-Control

Me — i.e, jpenseur
 
I'm grateful that I can hold back. 
My silver tongue can be pretty sharp. 
Dull slashes don't usually bother me, 
but the repetitive action becomes a blunt force. 
Bruises I cannot tolerate even on iron skin. 
My forge reaches unexpected highs. 
I get my blade ready for war. 
So much furry, so much hate. 
Instead of killing my enemy, 
I perform.
I swallow the sword with full conviction
because murder makes me tremble, 
and I don't like the smell of blood.
I consume the steel not to be consumed by guilt. 


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