Explore temperence

Words flow from your lips in a cascade of angry jabs, thrown at me in waves to see which idea grabs. You chill the air with stares your eyes cold as ice trying to freeze me with storms, like flurries of vice. You float around above me, as inconsistent as the clouds; acting as if you know me, from looking down at the crowds. I don't know what I've done to incur your sudden wrath, But no matter what comes, I will not alter my path.