Blind folded, you clumsily fling mud my way. You've dirtied my boots, my roots and even my hair. It lands on my tongue. it tastes sour, while you shrug because you're just sorry. I begin to muddle stones into bullets. The target locked and I wait till you fling one more mud drop.

A trigger released. you're blown to pieces. And me? I regret nothing. for you asked for it. You underestimated. You undermined. I am the red flag and I am your crazy. I'd gladly be the Cruella Deville in your story. and still, I will regret nothing.
...