Excuse me, but were my words addressed to your ears? Or was I perhaps not talking to you.

Do I give a **** about your unwanted opinion? Tell me, should I care?

Was my thought a gift for your mind to process? Or should you mind your own business.

Was I talking to you? Or are you just rude.

The words that sit on my tongue threaten to spill.
Yet I soak them up since I know your ear is not a lending one.
Your words sting; but the absence of them leaves a scar so deep, I couldn't tell you where it ends.
My lungs fill up with pent up aggression, making it hard to catch a breath.
I've begun to drown in my thoughts,
While you gulp them down and watch.
Do you remember me telling you: "I don't drink."
You're the reason that has changed.