Quicksand 

No one ever finds me as disappointing and annoying as you do. 

Typically I get along with people and am considered to go with the flow. 

You make me feel like quicksand… like everyone should run or I’ll swallow them. 

Maybe I should so they’ll stay. 

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Sticky

Your words are sticky, dripping with gooey sugar crystals. They coat my throat, block my airways and choke my wind pipes. 

I never get to eat sugar, it’s bad for my teeth you say. But sometimes you force it to me and it’s artificially saccharine. Like Splenda. I know it’s not good for me but I still like the taste. Only it’s slightly bitter.