Sharp tongue,
That’s what they call it,
I call it my yin,
My intuition, aggression, passion,
It’s the fire in me, keeping me warm,
Small and contained like the flame at the end of Charmander’s tail.
You’re bothered by it,
I see it.
But don’t be fooled by my mindfulness,
Handing you a bucket of water to douse me,
Handing you the fuel to consume me all over,
I’m not doing either of that,
For your bother doesn’t bother me one bit.
I shall feed it, mould it, tame it,
Nurture it even so,
And let it light me from within.

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