I Am A Spitfire
Location
I am an expert at breathing exercise
In and out is my forte
Cause I’m not quite sure if
I’m ready to double over in rage
Or simply let it go.
When I forget to breathe,
I am a spitfire
My words bite
My tongue is hot steel
I am a god and my target is a soon to-be verbal victim.
Yet
That is not the socially acceptable form of me
I am told to breathe
To bite my tongue until the complaint is stifled.
Naturally I stick to my gut
Letting my diaphragm lead me
And my stomach lurch to the hand of my passion
I’ve been taught however
That we stick to commitments
Even if they feel wrong and betray who we are.
I’d rather follow my gut then the words of someone else
They are trails of fallacies
Only capable of the air,
Easily failing to water.
I fight
I scream
I let them try to rip me apart
I teach them that my tongue is sharper
I am capable of intricate vexations
Knots to prove my point.
I do not leave the battle without the last word.