.::The Amyra::.

This kind of wound, it cannot be healed. Caused from a verbal war, without a shield. I pick at the scab, knowing I am too at fault of this war, of this assault. The words you spits are venom, and I wonder what you achieve from seeing me in pain, from seeing me in grieve.

What goes around comes around; I learned that the hard way, but after inflicting such pain, it is the price I must pay. So now I am putting down the gloves, hand me the red flags because this is no longer an option, it's my future I must snag. Take back your words of venom, because nobody cares what you say.

No need for revenge, just sit back and wait. Those who hurting me will eventually screw up themselves and if you are lucky, Allah will let us watch.

What goes around comes around. When it catches you, I plan on making popcorn pouring some honey and doing a toast while I laugh.