Rasp

There is a subtle raspiness at the edge of my throat
The poison in the air finally settles in my lungs
So absolute, so complete, it souses my soul
Flows through my veins and corrodes the blood

There is this anger, I say, seething deep within
Bubbles in the pit of my stomach, with the acid therein
This deep anger, at the cusp of my lips
When I speak: there but, a shallow, mournful growl

So it’s not all rage that imbibes this heart?
More than I admit, sadness intermingles the wrath
It is a sadness that dances on the edge of these lips
Softly overcomes the rage and everything else therein

Speaks softly, the hoarse undertones so smooth
I am melancholy, come for your heart, for your soul
When nothing but despondency soothes the core
I call it sweet temperament, soft despair come home

If it all is a lie, why hold on so dearly?
If it were all a lie, to begin with, we fell in love with it, didn’t we?
Say to the lies, you hold my honor, my heart
To you all these poison-laden breaths, all of this sorrow-laden heart

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