Language is a Playground

You're a bi-polar ostrich that buries its head in the sand to avoid danger, but when pushed too far on the wrong day, you lunge at the agressing force like a rabid badger, spitting fire and destroying all within claw's reach. As an ostrich, you are illogical and evasive, thinking that stretching your neck out will solve all your problems, that people cannot see you when you are hiding in plain sight. It's a wonder you're always surprised when someone takes a bite out of your ass.

Then again, most people are sharks. They circle and shadow, looking for weakness, a moment of perfect attack, then strike; only to find that you taste like shit so spit you back out and leave you to either drown or bleed to death. Sort of like love, only death by carnivore comes more quickly and far less painfully than an attack from that malevolent menace.

Or maybe it's just me. Most days, I'm pretty sure it is.

Your duplicity has petrified my pretense, and anyone nearby might have to laugh when seeing me twitching as nervously as any hare that knows the fox has caught its scent. Language is naught but the playground in which I throw sand at people, and something that you like to bury your head in. Like an ostrich. A bi-polar ostrich. A bi-polar ostrichbadgersharkfoxthingy.

With shitty taste in music.

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Don't fret. I'm not really this crazy. This is a silly, pointless rant about no one. I write these sometimes.