I am not selfish,
You burden me with your salt-raw emotions,
Stiffen me up with half-baked dreams.
If I beat not in regiment,
Then do not ask me to be.
Know that this is more than your pumping processor.
They made me wild and lean
Wanderlost, sing longings for the sea.
If you nail me to that bed-rock of a breast,
Then I promise you dearly, endless shall you palpitate.
For you are come to thrust the flutter of my ever impulse
Homeward.
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