This isn't about crude humor. This isn't a prose on love. This isn't a suicide fervor. This isn't any of the above.
This isn't about the evil of man. This isn't about the sun or moon. This isn't about any "I think I can." This isn't about any rant or swoon.
This isn't a "Why, God, have you forsaken me." This isn't about my ex or fling. This isn't about friends or family. This really isn't about anything.
This isn't about nature. This isn't about wanting to be free. This isn't about "How I love thee, Sandy" or "Fletcher." This is about nothing, really.
This isn't about wanting attention. This isn't about wanting sympathy. This isn't about finding redemption. This isn't about trying to 'love me for me."
This isn't about " Oh, Woe is me." This isn't about how the sky is blue. This isn't about what my heart can or can not see. And this surely isn't about you.
So, Read me not, For I contain no meaning. Read me not, For I have no proper beginning. Read me not, Because you don't care to. Read me not, Because most of all, I really don't want you to.
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