Im not sure if mad says it...I hear your words of fire while getting burned by the flames rolling off of words like *****! Sometimes Im completely, in utter shock like the cat got my tounge, but cats loath me. Memories flash in my mind of my own suffering of things he wouldn't do or didn't do. I took the burdon, I carried the load. I worked magic so our lives didn't turn out tragic. Not one time did I complain, and having to beg for appreciation is ******* insane. At the end of the day my feelings are forced to drift away, be at bay, where they may. Completely alone, isolated, yet in the core of the crowd. Never seen with all eyes on me. Again...I hear the word *****!! I turn around with cat-like reflexes and bellow words from the sword of my tounge like sir Knight himself. My scold is merciless, my point sharp, my sound ultrasonic. My powers brought forth thunder and lighting into his arrogance. Why must I be drained from the blood running through my rolling veins just to be heard...?