Listen to me,

Hear me,

Finger my essence

Knead it

And

Know its texture,

Did you see that?

A fine line seperating pure and ugly?

Was the line light or dark?

Bear in mind

To not mess with the silver line

I don't seek the clouds to burst

Resulting in hurricanes

You would regret

You caused.

I don't mean

To say

That I would be welcoming

Any seasonings

Either.

Never can you salt

The plain dough

To fill the crevices

You say you could see through

No soul knows me,

More than,

I do.

I am no sketchbook

To appease you

And your desires

Shove that judgemental roller

Down your judgemental

Throat.

You are an amateur

In the bakery department.

I recruit

Only the experienced

And the learnt ones.

***

©VioletEden