Deserving of my sickness

Solid and sweet,
Citrine words have been the cause of my erosion.
The sweetness burns my throat,
I've been told to go on elimination,
To stops my lungs from being stolen.
Lowering my ability to digest the world around me,
This has stopped my slow corrosion.
Licking at my mouth,
Sour intentions and bile,
Waves from a sickening acid ocean.