I know I'll say something that will kill you a little inside. My mood is baleful, my discontent I can't hide. There is at this moment nor will be at the next a reason to scream and cause vengeful feelings. I am however heir to these harrowing dealings. My mouth is a festering open wound of dreadful vibrations. Why do I torment everyone with these meaningless frustrations. I say to myself, why am I about to spew this abomination. It's as if my conscience is on permanent vacation. Loved ones deal with it day in and day out. Do they truly forget my actions, this I doubt.