Have you ever...

I will publish myself until I infect the world,
And if that connotation proves to be too negative, 
I will write until I inspire the world,
And it will be due to the productive.

Work by my hand,
All the words that have been spilt out of my head,
Due to the boiling point,
Called fear of world dead.

Without a sense of purpose,
I shall not be,
No I shall not fall in to the trap,
Of corrupt society.

Hear the line as its drawn,
Taste the data as its crunched,
See the change as its made,
Feel the persistence from my punch. 

Now go and spread this song my friend,
But let it be in words of you,
Let the world hear your calling,
Spread the virus like me too.