1 minute to go.

By design,
I fell, at the wrong
end of submission.
The contradiction to demure.
The laughter in the face of your
requests for compliance.
Instead, you get defiance.

Do I make you angry?
I hope so.

You think, when I fall,
my bruises are your victory.
You forget.
I like marked skin.
So when I stand,
and place my hands
around your hole of a face,

It will be you,
praying for time.
Begging for Grace.