The Sword of Damocles hangs over my head

Slowly swinging back and forth scratching

An unending itch at the base of my neck

I lean my head back to watch it sway

Using a finger to play with its sharp edge

When it slices my finger open I don't pull away

I push more at the sword until it's uncontrollable

Until I'm taunting it to fall and take more than a finger