First I was strange, Hard to figure out... Then I was mean, Dreadful, no doubt... Now I am evil incarnate, Death walking about... When I enter a room, The flowers turn brown... Darkness is surrounding, And silence is mine...
Reason for writing:
people are always telling me how strange I am.. and how they do not like to be around me because they then become infected with my darkness and insanity.. ..... so i wrote a poem about it.. which is what i always do when i feel pain....
Birth sign: Not entered
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