People of purpose, prose slayers, rhyme sayers and sooth sayers.

Collectors of thoughts, creatures of creativity, consumers of credibility..

Beware. Be weary. Be watchful…

There are those that weaken words. That wield false actions. That slay, undermining what you say.

Their power is fear. Their friends are not. Their allegiance is their own.

They sit with you, wide eyed, with placating words, while they plot demise and status and rise.

They collect your thoughts, stuffing pockets with co-opted coins of credibility, delivering the illusions of intellect, while their stomachs are empty, yet filled with slime.

We bleed from their devious deeds. We do not grow, so that they will. Their world ends when ours begin.

And because, they are not our friends.

Your heart has called before, told you to tread with dread.

Be watchful, be wise, or alas you will conspire in your own demise.

Yet fear not. For suspicion is their rot. Their slow state of decay.