Cacophony

Against contrary belief, I am not made of beautiful whispers that slip from your lips

My words will hold no meaning

And I will not pretend that my eyes radiate love or my hands are warm and soft

A place you find comforting will not be hosted by my being.

I analyze

I read

And it terrifies you

My tongue is sharp and painful

Wrecking havoc in your subconscience

I am a plague not meant for the ones with soul

For I am the mistress, the insane, and the poet.