Why do I always have to instigate?
An impulse my opinions can't refuse, I suppose.
But the acid of my tone burns a scar into my memory
And I fear the chemical reaction I may have started.
A catalyst;
I set flame to the frayed ends of a cord begging to be ignited.
The multicolored strings are too attractive to my eyes to resist.
Before I can catch myself, I've uttered them.
Thoughts pushing in line to get out.
I begin before I even have a remote idea how to end.
A tragic flaw for a tragic hero, except, I am not the latter.
Conveying the hidden nicer sentiments
Is too difficult for such a catastrophe. It longs to kill.
And yet, I never meant to hurt you.
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