What does ye ask of me?
Or, perhaps, demand?
Shall I live amongst solitude?
Ah, but ye’d like that, eh?
Leave me be, dear rogue.
I’ll pat yer scruffy cheek.
But, away, ye must go.
Thou shall not control me.
Scurry along, wee urchin.
Scram! Back into your ego.
Enough of yer shenanigans.
Tiring, thou hast become.
Exasperate me, not.
No longer will I plead.
Keep your wiles away from me.
Lest ye want to bleed.
©️Unapologetically Me
Unapologetic 