I was maybe eleven. My blood was on the asphalt
because I was smaller than some kid at the bus stop.
That's when I remembered what my brother told me,
"If you don't swing back, then you're bleeding for nothing."
So I swung and I swung until my knuckles went numb,
but when I came to, I hated what I had done.
I swung and I swung until my knuckles went numb.
All the victim ever wants is their hand on the gun.
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