Recently I was told by an unfamiliar personality but a familiar face “I Know You” while accusing me of unheard of things
I’m worried about the spiritual realm, which is real to me. You see me. You know what my building looks like, but you don’t know the character inside. I show you my building because it goes everywhere I go. I can’t leave it at home. But as far as you knowing me, buddy–I don’t think so–We don’t even speak
So how can you know anything about me. To Bad, To Bad, I say to you. Not to be cliché but somebody lied to You. I’m glad I’ve surpassed judging buildings by their outward appearance. You jumped to an ugly conclusion about me. Don’t know me from a tree–Then had nerve enough to bring it to me.
So I say—I’m finished. You’ve invaded my space. Talking down to me in my face. All over what somebody said, Somebody said…somebody said…somebody who? You. I can’t be a part of the walking dead. I’m closing my door. Now look and judge that!
Vivian Dixon Sober ã 2007
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