21 At times life is so vicious in me, pretty and given, murderous villain, I call on god to stay my hand. I would take full responsibility. An oppressive saturation of my heart hollows me out, throws cloud around me, casts me in doubt. The swollen essence of a flippant remark quickly burrows itself into bone, free finally to pull strings, push buttons but out of bounds because of you, your intervention as spasmodically. Plainly the fellow has a weakness and we'll use it. Oh yes, perfectly accurate! Would you take it as personally if your own child left home suddenly and became a fiend set on destruction? Would you smile or would the frailty of this sort of love stick in your throat? I believe it would, silly, false person! *