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Your truth is fostered in my belly

Just like some foreign child,

Your truth is cultured in my chest

Just like some demon seed.

My truth is strengthened in my throat

Just like some armoured host,

My anger’s burning on my tongue

The truth is thus exposed…

So the words trip, gather pace

Does it not show in my face?

The feeling I’ve been betrayed.

You’ve turned around, to strike me down

To strike me in the back.

Anger expands my frame, like a god-king:

Cower…quiver…fear.