They say names have power.
They say names can’t hurt you.
Which is it?
And who are they?

They’ll hate me.
They’ll tease me.
They’ll laugh.
They’ll judge me.

They will
They will
They will

Will they?

Well, here’s what I will.

I will that people would own their words.
I will that trolling
And hatred
And blind bigotry
And casual insults
Be writ scarlet on their chests.

I will that everyone using
A keyboard to kill
A screen to injure
A pen to stab
Be out as public
And permanent
And viral
As their cold
Runny product.

I will seek them out.
I will give them names.
I will call them into the light,
From under their Momma’s
Skirting boards

We will see their tiny, quivering shadows.
We will see myriad sad, lonely souls.
Pissing into the wind.
Wee willies.

A hurricane of wind.
But still just a whole lot of piss.
And piss only hurts if you drink it,

So they say.

Bryson Thomas