You can vent, but you just can’t scream,
Inside is a fire but referred to as a cream,
Without thinking, you only know the mean,
Dismissing the callous, rowdy and unclean.
You don’t seem to shake off the scant,
And its with the clad and landed slant,
That you are laid and made, with bound,
So where is the reasoned able sound?
Holding your feelings in, you astound,
Filtering the pure, absorbing the towned,
Leaving the stalwart, ascorbic and austere,
You wonder why therefore are radii fear.
Leave alone the grandiose and the dart,
Possibly historical, not new and sharp, clart,
The shocking may not be evasive and intrusive,
So look in here, the argument is abusive.
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