A Supplemental Piece for the Time

You speak instinctively with prejudice at heart.

Your ignorance is butter spread on vernacular’s bread.

For someone who is always correct, you’ve managed to paint your face the brightest of reds.

It feels we’ve waged verbal warfare for hours, but tis’ only been a few minutes.

Cawing from those surrounding us admonishing my decision with their one-sided perspectives.

Only puppets who never managed to free themselves of commandeered reflexes.

For once, I have found you in the wrong and you’ve nowhere to run.

Despite the validation I conjure in this battle of Rhetoric;

it is always you who wields the smoking gun.