Kept behind pressed lips, craving release, I am stifled.
Do not cast me aside or you will spiral.
In conflict with myself, the fight is an eyeful.
The lips part. Light shines. Revival.
Religion tries to claim me but I am no disciple.
A crack in your smile, I am my own rival.
History has assured that I am more than vital.
I try to be calm, mostly I am frightful.
The lips form around me, a performance, the last recital.
My power enacts upon arrival.
Short, simple, quaint. Yet I am no trifle.
Crashing through, my impact is tidal.
A reaction ensues. It is far from idle.
Within you I birth something primal.
Kept eternal by your cycle.
Casting hope and brightness, I am rightful.
Neither lost nor spiteful.
To me, you are all entitled.
Finally released, you are put on trial.
Yet I am key to your survival.