My friend is fragile and will break if words are not in perfect order.
I can profess my love and it can be an insult.
My mood and meaning were detailed for my contrary to its intent or truth.


I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge.


The rabbit trails and tears I've indulged to be fair to something I can not understand.

I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge.


I have no heart.
I can demand that this has no business in this business

but that doesn not make it any less real, or here, or right now.
We (*##$ and moan, but our prologue suggests we're spoiled.
Do we create a conflict simply to overcome when we rely on ourselves?

Or is this as real as pain and it has only been hidden too well?
I confess my heart tells me both.
It suggests a void in my faith.

I promise if I see your disgust, I will go for your throat.