So you think I'm a true psycho, serial killer, soul stealer?
'Well no not exactly, I just think you quite perverted and disturbed.'
Really keep honoring me such kind words.
You batting a thousand so far.
'What hell is wrong with you? '
'I don't think that's something you should be proud of.'
Pride is a shameful thing ain't it.
'You mean 'isn't it'? '
So now you are really correcting me.
Congratulation.
My grammar can be fixed, my personality can not.
No matter how warped the interpretation.
So what is it you want from me?
'Well nothing, you started this unnerving conversation.'
Good then I can end it right.
You have any objections?
'Yes you're being mean.'
'I didn't do anything to you.'
I'm sorry but the last time I checked I didn't have to validate feelings expressed to anyone but myself.
Did I miss something in this conversation?
Was it hiding in some dark corner where I wasn't looking?
Or was it the words that didn't come out of your mouth.
'You know what I've had enough, I'm no longer going talk to you.'
Well if you allowed me to you wouldn't have had to.
But you were so certain I didn't have the right to be excused.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem