Sometimes my words feel like venom, but, its only cure is being let out.
In the past I would choose to poison myself, slowly killing my state of mind, my happiness, and remind myself that what hurts me would kill you.
Deception poisons my lungs, turning summer leaves brown from green.
I cannot tell a complete lie; I'll crumble from the inside.
It is against my nature but maybe half-truths will save you from my wrath.
I want to empower you and embrace you, not hurt you, but there are things we must face until we can be who we want to be, which means we must address who we are first.
