Some have called me mother.
Others have called me healer.
But you, I wish would call me lover.
I am usually drawn to that which doesn’t want to be claimed.
That which indulges in uncertainties and foreign mysteries.
I am drawn to he who hides away behind walls that never come down.
Walls that even the great walls of China would envy.
These walls don’t shudder, neither does he stutter when he rejects me over and over again, mostly without saying as much as a word. It’s in the way he moves… Fortunately, it’s not just me he declines but all else.
Every and anyone who tries to get too close.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were mad but no sweet one; you are everything but mad. Plain genius in waiting.
As i sit back, fully placing all my weight on this crooked chair, just so…
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