My new untitled poem...

I try to avoid confrontation but lately I get a strange feeling that very soon someone will happen to run into my fist
I know that sounds crazy but i envision it like a magnet, a very very big magnet so powerful that as soon as bullshit gets close to my hand it will uncontrollably raise,
stretch out in front of me like a high five but suddenly each finger will fold into a fist and... BAMN
the blood of bullshitter number one will spill out, coat my hand like his thick tongue coated my spine ,his mouth will clinch as if the impact forced him to bite his own lips that are filled with lies,
I'll see tears in his eyes but show no sympathy because at that moment I will enjoy finally seeing some emotion displayed
Surprised that he can feel, my fist will drop, fall to my side limp & lifeless & I'll have to question whether this collision of his face to my fist was intended... Somewhere between my passive attitude and numb heart was true feelings
& ever time a story went unheard, a hand went unheld, my fist would keep count of it, knowing that my mouth would not utter the words to let him know I felt unappreciated
I can't believe I'm daydreaming about this act of violence but nothing would make me feel better than to physically put him in check because clearly pussy don't make him like you more
so I'll resort back to my minor ways, I'll give him the grown up version of a love tap I just want respect and I'm OK with the idea of beating it out of him until he sees black...