Please Don’t

When I’m feeling fancy in writing, I do highfalutin.  Makes me feel like a classic writer although in truth, I’m just being pompous.  Don’t mind my fancy, I’m just aiming on me.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Don’t tell me you know me well enough, you don’t know what’s on my mind; you don’t know exactly when and how I breathe out all the frustrations and disappointments that I allowed to debrief my existence.

Don’t state your judgments as you can, you don’t know how detrimental those are, and you have no idea how it allowed yourself to become what I think you are.

Don’t analyze my ways, you can’t be self-complacent that you can dissect me as those vertebrates this world tried to comprehend. I am me, it cannot be analyzed.

I am no other’s canvass, so don’t draw conclusions by a mere sheer glance. You haven’t been in my world. So don’t dissemble to be cognitive to my approaches.

Just don’t.

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