Slaughter them with words that kill the soul and puncture the heart, but never use the devil's hands...

I am an assassin.

My boss? A heart. My heart.

The center of my sentiments;

the reason for all my missions.

I am armed and dangerous.

Where do I get my weapons from?

A brain. My brain, who was trained

by my boss on how to use these deadly

weapons to take down my targets.

I am driven: determined to eliminate

               enemies and those who stand in my way.

Why so determined?

Because I’m sick of people who talk shit.

People who judge me. No one has been there

every second of my life to judge me.

My tools for killing are powerful.

What are they?

Words. Harsh words.

I use two steps to victory…

First, I throw a couple of curses their way

temporarily disarming them.

Inexperienced, they desperately try to fight

back using the same technique.

I smack “bitch” to the side, kick “hoe” away

and stop out “slut”.

Dodging them is easy for I am immortal

when names are thrown my way.

If only they had sticks and stones instead.

First step to annihilation, successful.

While they are distracted by the sting of

sharp jeers, I move in for the kill.

I attack the one thing in their lives that is

most important which is, always, themselves.

I rip apart their reputation, shoot down their looks

  and with a final deadly slash slice their dignity in half.

Leaving my victims pitiful and weak, gaping holes

in hurt hearts which means that I have

successfully completed my mission.

Boss will be happy.