I was a fan
of violence.
A man of
no patience.
Disrespect
was met
with a fist.
My knuckles
were memorable
to those who
didn’t mind
their own business.
Lessons were learned
through the gift
of malice.
Those in need
of tutelage
Were awarded
it in blood.
The glory days
when I was
a teacher.
The cops
ruined that
Busted
I have a new title.
What choice
is left for a
two-time loser.
Here I am
Years later
Fists in my pockets
Expressing myself
through words
Freedom of jail
Instead of violence.
