How does he manage so many people,
The blood with his heart, others through words;
No apparent reason to entertain the others,
He still chooses hugs over swords.
He’s made every single soul wanting him,
Believe that they are a part of him now.
That is how even his fake embraces feel,
And all they can do is wonder, say wow!
Though he is still not too old,
He has had too many people too close.
What they say, never mattered even one bit,
They existed only for the periods he chose.
And this is not metaphysics,
Only basic sciences and humanities,
Worthless souls produce and nurture,
Hollow, misled, full of shit entities.
He, now, has banned these assholes,
Each wanting undeserved exclusivity, proximity.
The requisite disclaimers hang outside the perimeter,
Trespassers would be disowned for their naivety.
