There’s so many things I want to but will not do in front of you *******.
                                No you don’t deserve it,
It isn’t handled within yet outside alone.

                                Mobbing and torching the whole way home, swimming.
                                Trembling in anger,
So much you’ll vanish and suffer yet recall.

                                 The kindness comes from their throats
And the face is the highest facade.
                                 The unwanted affection of strangers is elevated,
When they have knowledge of who you are. 

                                 What’s the use of spite originated satisfaction,
If it doesn’t quench any thirst or curb any craving.
                                 Like a bird ******,
Or any revenge.

                                 My real form is the poems,
The layering an example of my ever extending souls.
                                 But impossible is to be shaped so perfectly by creators,
That these are not perfect themselves.

                                 Instead, vulnerability,
And magic!
                                 And my god I use my my my far too much,
The only way I know how to **** is to **** through my heart. 
               
                                 And **** har d er th an e ver t h a n yo u kn ow y ou c an, 
Though these broken letters I ramble.
                                 Never again,
I’ll never talk again for I am speechless.