I wish to know a million ways to hurt:

With fist and sword,

With smile, with thought and word,

So from a million ways to hurt

I could protect you,

Who lives at war with the world

Your own mind has created;

/

I’ll learn my arts

From pretend saints and their demons,

From those, who buy what can’t be bought,

Who, to sell water, cause a draught,

From those, who drench their lands in blood

As if to please not their confused hearts

But a god;

/

I’ll sprout a million hands

And place in each a weapon;

I’ll grow a million heads

And poison each with ignorance;

I’ll stand on a million legs so strong,

With each my step the Earth will shake,

And I will slay, destroy and dance

Until but dust – and you – remain;

/

I wished to know a million ways to hurt,

So I could give you this clean sheet

To paint a world,

Where there’s no need for pain or fear,

Or monsters of unalterable pasts;

Where none finds joy in harming or in suffering;

Where there’s no place for me, at last