No additional text
None to comprehend
No line to suffer
To draw
To differ
In odds; my own
My own digression
Obsession
Compulsion
Every movement sound
Sound the alarm
My victim; I
I, entangled in an interview
of some stature
Some nature
Some place, sure
Go forth ye lad!
That’s all you are
in the vision of the wiser
Who is wiser in turn
The innocent,
The aged?
The malicious virus
For what came?
-j.broadway