Long paragraphs must escape my mouth.
Only a few words succeed in so.
               ...very deplorable.
As a paramount and sublime individual
I won't be known.
Rather as a repulsive and unfriendly one.

Sugary falsehood must be conveyed.
Though spiky factualism flows out.
               ...truly unacceptable.
Goodness is spreading sweet tales.
Evil is handing trueness.

Bright light must touch me.
Yet darkness embraces me.
               ...extremely funereal.
Nyctophilia means depression.
Nyctophobia means greatness.

I must pronounce this...
I must communicate that...
Perform this I must...
Perpetrate that I must...

It's a constricting shirt.
M is my size, XXS is this cloth.
Will I slowly take it off?
Or will I rip it to shreds?