Indignant air, an aura of mystique.
Hazy lines crossed with unspoken deceit.
Getting what you want, risk and reward…
Inevitably swallowing the sword.
“Heart” begs the question which is so profound…
“Who will you run to when it all falls down?”
Does the whim have to end with something so trite?
What truth is hidden underneath the spite?
Focusing ahead to alleviate…
Imposing exhile so you’ll dissipate.
Each passing second is a renewal,
To the life before codependent rule.
Sputtering thoughts from a lifted chalice…
Only to regret the silent malice.