Poem Seeking Reader (Revision 2)

[newsclippings]

Tired of red roses
and blue violets

If you expect me to compare myself
to a Summer's day, or feel
that love is in the air, then I am not
the poem for you.

I am the humidity that precedes Malaria,
influenza exploding into airborne Ebola,
rhythm without rhyme,
and the stolen fire of insight.
With me, you will finally understand why
a flower is lonely, and why you lie restless
beneath the moon. I will not be
your Russian nesting doll
for I will never lose myself in you,
though you may in me.


~~~
Good typo catch Jenn (they can sneak in no matter how much we read over these things.

I never got that violets are blue thing. They're violet, that's why they're called violets after all. And don't get me started on red roses.

I don't get the sickness you're trying to portray here. Maybe a little more grit and less humor?

But I'm biased.
My favorite line is the one with malaria. Well done.