Nostrils tingle, beginning to breathe.
Air is expelled, aiming to deceive.
Externally stable, as he inherently seethes.
Emotions tabled, he receives no reprieve.
Loquacious lips, tongue tied in a knot,
overbearing, yet inside overwrought,
a feeble facade, that could go for not,
for the truth could be found, if it were sought.
Words enkindle, his throat is inflamed;
an empty frame, with the interior maimed.
Demeaning disclosures, feeling defamed,
yet with one honest mutter, he is acclaimed.
Abounding lungs, an inflated chest,
inordinately full of emotions suppressed.
With an innate ability to cope with unrest,
he awaits his implosion, forever depressed.
