Angry Clouds (Part 1)

Angry clouds,
and antique metaphors
for this eternal war.
This infernal
sore in my side,
thorn in my pride.
After truth you speak,
is mine supposed to run and hide?
opinions that conflict and collide
bring pain, not by words,
but as a side effect of pride,
and self lies.
Burying the truth to far to find.
A battle of the mind it is true,
that the only thing that separates
me from you, is you.
But wait, that goes for me too.
I am not a hairstyle,
or a textile
my spirit can't be measured
like the inch or the mile
You can try to profile my style
but until we sit and talk for a while
you are still part of this epidemic denial
of this anemic Americana lifestyle
holding my spirit,
a prisoner on trial.