Those words detonate ripples;
blasting in my head.
My words burst with no
vitality because I'm plastic.
Lashing out the truth is making
me a burden where you throttle.
You have no vehemence towards me,
only get me slurred into whirlwinds.
This act of kindness is a hoax,
talking with no perceptible emotion.
I am your brutal honest mistake,
tangible, but drifting from you.
Feigning me to the point of simply oppressing,
denying my own freedom.
Are you proud of me,
for escaping the the enshrouded?