You goad and goad and goad
But I tantrum first.
Masked as rage
Instantly crumples manic limbs.
Your brow freezes
Curls around the edges
Like the brittle autumn leaves you delight in scuffing through.
Your inhale is much too long
As you choke on my anger-drenched words.
You try to turn them all to tears but some spit back at me
Others turn lithe fingers to fists
And the worst nestle into your heart.
You are symptom only;
Any cure must target me.