The Problem

Pardon me… I have a problem.

I do not stand to be treated for any less than I am… President, parent, teacher, associate, I pretty much don’t give a – darn.  You’re not going to talk to me like I’m a nobody.  A wise man once said “I may not have seen any miracles, but my being here has to count for something…”  It was a long hard battle before I came to understand my miracle nature.  To grasp the intuitively sublime atomic structure that each and every cell in my body is made of.  For too much of my life I dueled Social Sociopathic Designation for my identity… Far too long, and it cost me too much for you to think you’re just going to TAKE it from me.  You would have to kill me – good luck with that.

Pardon me… I have a problem.

I have an instinctive nature to protect women from the dogs of this earth seeking nothing more than a female dog for a quick fix, not realizing – or perhaps not caring – that such things do not exist, for when God made women He took the strength of a man, wrapped in the body of an angel, gave them His own life with a tender life kiss… So if you think that you can just walk up and disrespect my sister, you might want to consider if I’m anywhere within sniping distance.  You want to talk crazy to my mother?  I take that as a personal bother, no matter who you are… Not even you father.  Because if you really realized who you were talking to, you wouldn’t need a talking to, because if she leaves your presence once more in tears – I’ve got ten knuckles that stutter and talk in twos.  And for the myriad of God’s beloved in orbit around me, I assure complete safety.  You shall lay nary a finger on these angels amidst which God has placed me.

Pardon me… I have a problem.

I possess sincere dislike for the insincere and unauthentic.  Love God and love people… Life is too short to play say such things and not have meant it.  I don’t stick well to those who have predispositions on what or how I should be, and who can let our relationship go so casually unless it is me picking up the phone to make yours ring.  I’m not particularly fond of being judged by what I do not know, nor not knowing what it is exactly that you want, and why you want it, for surely – if you’ve been wanting it this long you’ve encountered it and been satisfied?  Or perhaps not.  Social groups I understand – everybody is not for everybody, but these days people are so wrapped up in themselves the question is “is there somebody for anybody?

Pardon me… I have a problem.

That’s what I’m told anyway… I don’t know anything… I think I know so much… Stay under the umbrella and never, ever grow up… Is what they told me.

… But this is MY story, and this is MY song… Ha.

But for those of you who are drawn to normal people… Be wary of me… I’m looking around…

And I have a problem.

~The Wordsmith

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