Is sharing our soul not enough?
Don’t we move you when you read our words?
Does the very act of our intellectual bleeding mean nothing?
What more can I do to please you, to make you want to read on,
how else can I speak to your soul using mere words?
Tell me what you want…
homogenised pages of fluff. Will, that please you?
Or deeper, slower bleeding cuts into my psyche?
Dear reader, we only write to please you.