Blades at my back

One day when I was in college gathering poverty in order to pursue my poetry and a man i felt him on my back.. senses and  vibrations rumblings in my toes tingling.   when i turned to see in my hypothetically high stooper a blade was at my back so i grabbed his wrist, blade away from chest his arm bent at geometric degrees frankly i cannot remember that day in class as to point the blade at his chest forcing inching his blade thrust upon my back at him for his misused aggression closer to his throat.  I can see surrender in his eyes and i do not care i aim to finish this here and now and later after he had been gone from existence by my hand, they would ask me of this day and was i afraid.  I would reply, i guess i am just used to a blade at my back it is only now that i turn to face them and take what they used on me for death on them for life