Laying around, intensely in my mystery.
Isolated and all by myself.
Alone, keeping my distance.
Depressed and saddened.
Anguished by my own thoughts.
People, nosy people in my energy.
I can feel it like a ***** of my finger and the rush of blood through my veins.
Childsplay, like flies in my spider web.
They love to talk about me, good and bad.
They love to be obsessed with me and give me their power.
They love to talk, gossip.
Petty little flies.
Smash them, and let me have my privacy, my secrecy and my thoughts to myself.
Expressing myself out loud but not feeling safe in my private lonesome space.
Toxic, negative, indifferent.
THEY OBSESSED WITH ME.
MAKING ME EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN I ALREADY AM.
Intuition on high alert and picking up on things around me like a cat.
I can feel it, see it, hear it.
The peasantry lurks, yet, they can't break me, it's sad, ain't it.