Nociception & Nonsensical Metaphors

64 sound of a breath

I'm in so much pain
It really is insane
That my face though plain
Could capture the wind
In the twisting vines of my lies
But still never realize
That what really matters
doesn't always matter to me.

But how could it be?
That the end result
of these words prove
to be less than the breath
which pushed them forth.

Would it help if I said sorry?

Or would you prefer I stopped my breath?

Because I want to know
what you desire.
Before it's too late.
Before my actions, I transpire.