I'll go far away. Your hate and prejudice
will be like sand between my toes and won't stick,
fall off from my skin even as it dries -
not a grain nor crumb. Not an atom of it.
Not one yarn of this entire tissue of lies
will touch me, nested in a different life.
Nothing but rightful the balance of justice
not each thrust acid sharp silver keen as knives.
I will stand here steady on my own two feet
and what you've sown is what you'll have to reap
today, tomorrow or centuries hence -
food grains grow only where the waters run sweet.
You'll sit alone with your sharp words and weapons,
cold your fireside. And the harvest in ruins.