I cannebalize my own anger. I rip it out, melt it, caramelize it, douse it in sugar, and I consume it. The rage, its like hot, hard candy sitting in my pocket. My hand dips in, 45 degrees exactly. My fingers tired of being sweaty, suffocated, clenched in a peach prison, stretch out like a lazy, kitty cat. They engloate; purring, finally free, batting against the cold air (it's okay it feels good). My left cuticles become soggy and moist from the winds sudden embrace. They curl back like the devils horns, preying upon me, their biggest fool. I finally reach in my lonely pocket, slide the piece of warm, gooey candy into my hungry mouth. My teeth screech with delight. The tangy sweetness dances with my chipped caps, stinging my nerves with a sugary blunder. It isn't rose colored glasses it's as crystal clear as the cotton candy sky. Mouth agape thoughts suddenly shuttering, blowing in the wind stunned by their own stinger I think no, i don't think, I dwell It's as deep as a well with no pennies No one made a wish there's only assumptions as empty as the hands that threw them As hateful as the minds that created them I'm a product of you Won't you let me die? Peacefully I pray Or never at all