Help me extinguish this blaze igniting deep within my bellows. Each swift gust of wasted breath sweetly smothers my tongue. Am I not allowed to speak my peace? Or perchance it is I whom has forfeited my right to do so? Seize my armor, make me bare, so as to expose the imposter that I am. Seeing my hands, a leather sheath, snuggly wrapped about my brittle bones. Allows me to realize, though angry and robust, I’m truly weak and frail. I need no protection, and I need no swathe of your warmth, so leave me be, so cold and meek, I can still hold my own.