Hello, strange being staring at me
I do not have a name
I would have introduced myself
But i do know who i rally am

I am a divine thought created by a bored poet
An original creation of the dark sage.
I am neither male nor female;
A genderless work of art.

I stand before you, unrefined, as the day i was born
Oh! What!? Why are you staring at my body?
My nakedness is not something your eyes could feed on
Please stop being a pervert and go back to whatever it is you were doing

Please don’t look down anymore, you pervert!
I’m not an open book! I detest being read by you!
Oh! Author! Please chase these perverts away
Before they see me completely naked!

Fine! I wouldn’t run away this time
Can you please conjure a cloth for me?
Even if it is a plot amour, I would appreciate it.
No, i did not eat the forbidden fruit

I took a stroll round the garden,
And found the forbidden tree interesting;
The leaves are sweet and chewy
So i made a pot of vegetables

You only instructed not to eat the fruit
There is nothing wrong in making a soup
Please do something!
The readers are still staring at me!!!

Hey! Yes, you! No, don’t look back!
I’m talking to you!
Go and sleep and stop being a pervert
Finally chased them away, sigh!

Haa! You’re still here!?
Why am I disintegrating?
What sorcery is this?
Author! What the hell is happening to me?

You told me I'm immortal
Why did you lie?
I'm only immortal when they stare?
Now I know… my creator is a pervert.

Please come back! I don't mind you staring at me.
You can look, but don't touch.
What!? Read with your eyes you fuc*ing pervert!
Fine, you can touch me if you're beautiful.

Ehn?! Please drop the dissecting knife
You're a reader, not a surgeon.
Please, I beg of you! I have no hidden meaning!
Why are you strapping me to the operating table?

Please stop with the interrogation!
My intentions are pure!
Please stop the hate against poems
Tell your teachers I'm not a chameleon

Not all poems hide knives or flowers behind their backs
I'm just a piece of art created by a bored poet
Please, tell them, Mr author!
He's making an incision! Stop him!

Poetry teachers are the evil they warned us about…
Why am I feeling sleepy all of a sudden?
Why are they grinning?
Both teacher and stu…