Inverted

Turn around...or be willingly sound!
I'll hurl nothing less cause my composure resounds within every capable ground.
The same moralistic bounds that hold me firmly down,
Keeping me above the treacherous waves where I could easily drown.
I'm proud to state that change is nothing ( tho also something) that respects a personal debate,
personally I debate that my rebuttal won't accept to be consistently hated,
Berated, chased with blind intent is placing ignorance above truths gracing.
My sound observes every statement you fake within your hopless making,
So here's a slice of my cake from the life of pie my life has strived to keep baking.
I'll never take because I respect to recieve what I've earned tastefully with an incasing

I'm frustrated like **** because I'm rarely, morally ever late I've only really realised lately,
but when I do trip up my wired mind rewinds and takes its time to build its case patiently.
A chase that's laced with a taste that's basted it's cased so finely,
winding with grace, finding the makings that'll place you behind me.
Inverted not converted, discerned with what you say means you'll never play what defines me
Faithfully similing with faith, blinded you are if you think you can ever faze my entirety
I'm back to front sometimes but that's a choice I've chosen gracefully,
With a winding neverending staircase I choose to open doors where you'll never find me really
Sounds like I choose to be alone but nah, I've just learned to kindly,
place certain people at arm's length where their penitration will never displace me.