Please, don't breathe on me.

Fear is an excellant motivator in battle.

I'm no leader. This so-called power you percieve in me isn't so great.

I am too in awe to punch him in the mouth.

Thought faint, I thus detect a rustling in her breast.

My mind quickly ebbed to elsewhere.

The feline scolds me with its intense yellow eyes. There is judgement there. Fear it. I cannot argue. He has claws.

I become desperate and sick with rage.

My hand falls, too heavy to control.

As long as I own my cruelty, can I keep it from owning me?