Good People: Their Unsightliness

At certain times people could help, it is vague to me to assume such a strange custom, to help a morose voyager on
his quest. None, do not worry about my imposts or my idiosyncrasy for there is no act so ungodly to bring forth
an inference so stereotypical. Am I depressed, yes, should it be a public consultation, no. I assume many people have
their lives to deal with, why worry about mine, I do not fancy the volatile people, how they assume every day that
nothing can possibly go wrong while there is a cynicism to
it. I plead them to leave me be, my frustration is against all humanity, my
misanthropy, my loathe for the cliche human being and that
human's imprudence. Good people are the minority of this society
and I shall not let it commence into my heart, my brain,
neither shall it be my mortal soul. The confused conflicts bound by
madness and the bipolar optimism that takes my hand is
the lawful wedded wife I call my love, sweet love, cherished love,
If anyone shall behead her, you are the next to seethe blood.