There was a certain cadence when he talked.
His head would bop to its own rhythm as he enthusiastically recounted, waxed poetic, or ranted.
Rant or rave,
There was no real in between
As is often the case with passionate people and sharp tongues.
His words cut like razors.
He was more than willing to draw blood and I was more than willing to shed it.
— The End —