“Scratches. Nothing at all. A scratch! Now leave me be…�
Bullshit and we both know it.
More than likely not likely do not resuscitate leave me be. Scratches are scratches, but a scratch made worms-meat of Mercutio, didn’t it?
Scratch me, slice me, cut me, knife me…
And then, of course, leave me and my wounds alone.
It’s very likely I will not survive this encounter… just ask my coffin, ready and waiting.
Scratches can be more than scratches.
Scratches, scars…
Wounds of injustice…
Leave me be as I become worms-meat… It is but a small, tiny, insignificant surface wound… maybe fatal, maybe not…
But a plague on both your houses, just the same…