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 it's 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 bitch 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