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sick of writing with poetic structure exposing no ones who stand posing their perfection and sick of handing out attention to those whom attention heads in the opposite direction, attacking introverts who pervert the course of knowledge with freshly polished forests energised by subconscious convictions of my victory they squash solid in denial which forms a viciously vile subtly stealth style of fibs and negativity masked by self promoting shows wanting all the best for me as they inevitably up level me only out to better me needing this tactic as they'll never be, I don't have such jealousy, bitter friends become enemies who forever endeavour to spread whatever they care to dare to swear is mine and their reality a structure tale that says I fail and need help as a casualty, all my life I failed to see it, my character caused them unease, my endowment needs devouring they hate it overpowering, all 5 foot whilst I stand at 6, as I was wanted they threw fits, hardly noticed and feeling hopeless whilst doors would open and I would progress, lending my hand to help others focus as ex-friends relished joking grotesque, enjoying every moment they feel best, a vultures scavenge is his challenge, the only time his skill's apparent, kick 'em when they're falling down to get above and stay no doubt, and they can keep the simple people who believe their words and see me evil after all it's what they seek for, I don't judge myself how I'm judged by people, a need they need I have no need for,

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