Cacophony
Against contrary belief, I am not made of beautiful whispers that slip from your lips
My words will hold no meaning
And I will not pretend that my eyes radiate love or my hands are warm and soft
A place you find comforting will not be hosted by my being.
I analyze
I read
And it terrifies you
My tongue is sharp and painful
Wrecking havoc in your subconscience
I am a plague not meant for the ones with soul
For I am the mistress, the insane, and the poet.
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