You say I’ve got a temper
That I’m always seeing anger
That I need to be calmer
And that makes me angrier
Coz’ your words light fires
That spiral higher
In my head-case tower
That spits louder
Words to counter
And make you cower.
Limbs stretch and flex to combat
Because caged in this thin plastic failing
Are scorched earth attack policies waiting.
We are strangers in this barren battle
My sword shatters your shield’s metal
As we chant our personal hurtful war cries
And I picture your demise slumped in the reflection of my eyes.
You are a paper-thin roadblock to trample over
An out-matched, out-gunned inaudible mutter
And I will see you begging on tear tattered knees
My red rage rampage devastating you with armchair ease.
But then I look in my hand
Past all the scars my skin has tried to withstand
And between my fingers
Lingers a smouldering match
The one I strike repeatedly, unable to take back.
My skin is cooked to blistered black
And my body is tried, each sinew and fibre
Because in war there are no survivors
So maybe it’s time to stop lighting fires…
Scott Matthew Watson is a budding playwright and screenwriter who recently embarked on a working holiday to Australia, where he started taking the craft of poetry and spoken word a lot more seriously. Writing and words are his world and he’s trying to get better at his performance style.