My friend is fragile and will break if words are not in perfect order. I can profess my love and it can be an insult. My mood and meaning were detailed for my contrary to its intent or truth. I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge. The rabbit trails and tears I've indulged to be fair to something I can not understand. I will incite a wrath designed to break a man and I expect challenge. I have no heart. I can demand that this has no business in this business but that doesn not make it any less real, or here, or right now. We b**h and moan, but our prologue suggests we're spoiled. Do we create a conflict simply to overcome when we rely on ourselves? Or is this as real as pain and it has only been hidden too well? I confess my heart tells me both. It suggests a void in my faith. I promise if I see your disgust, I will go for your throat.