Untitled (Rough Draft)

You, with your devilish tone, send us home
to moan and groan. And you keep us, persistently,
on our toes, because no one knows what goes with you.
Without a tinge of remorse in that devilish tone of yours -
which, by the way, scorches and burns us, turns us white
with fear to utter a word - you slip in remarks that ache
and make us take, and double-take, on why we all
put up with you.

But all you do is "put up" with us, and thus, our lack of trust
in you is justified. In no way can we just confide in you
when you continue to do as you do, and pursue gratitude
through a magnitude of hate and "attitude."

What good will it do for you? A temporary fix - fixed in that mind,
closed off from reality - seems empowering, but it makes you
intolerable when you push and pull with intentions of
deception, that eat away at you everyday. And everyday,
you whine and complain about what went wrong with so-and-so,
and who upset you through-and-through.

So, everyday, that devilish tone, amplified with every word -
absurd, while making stomachs turn - elicits reproach and
a lack of approach from those who dare withstand your presence;
that essence, unappealing to most, that discomforts thoroughly.