Contagious ramble
Pay attention to my name,
it's not meant merely as a handle.
From the sweet rot of love, to the crimson hate,
I write as a pebble in your sandal.
I seek not your understanding,
nor to encourage your read.
For me, from me, it's demanding,
my soul, still born, as a seed.
I write for me, for relief,
not to entertain you.
I paint out a new belief,
breatheing in, from which it grew.
May I only infect you,
to respect yourself.
The heart of humanity, is beating blue,
at a warped angle... on your shelf.
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