Forlorn

You don’t know me.  Don’t pretend that you do.  You are not Shaggy, nor am I your scooby doo.  We have no history- your bc is bs- and our future is in question because of the current mess.  How dare you… how dare you trespass on land that isn’t yours.  How dare you deem my mind and soul shallow waters that you needn’t ford, you are poor.  But you think you are wealthy.  Sick on the perscription of your own doctrine, tears streaming as you’re coughin, yet you don’t take a breath… instead you continue to fling.  Insults.  Doing your best to entice my self esteem, and strike with sorrow.  Stop it.  I do not permit you to make false claims, address me by different names, or shatter my windows and leave me in pain…. you don’t know me.  How many times must I remind thee, before ye falsely judge me…. you don’t know me.  So have a seat- before I force you into submission.

**
~The Wordsmith

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