The argument

I watch the air grow dark with cloud
Until the tension is so loud
It finds its voice and spills to shout
As insults, accusations out.
Their barbs that stick into our ears
And mar our conscience, rot our fears
So we retaliate in kind;
Bile oozing forth from tongue and mind
And frothing loud as thundrous strike
To echo our profound dislike
For all you hid, and all you feel.
When spoken thus, a Catherine-wheel
Of torture grows with rack and screws
As we absorb your poisoned views,
And sickened, know the sad demise
Of love’s young dream, before our eyes.

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