da série "fancing ressentment"
I didn't know my french poem was that bad
she let me know it without skirt
it was just narcissistic and sexist babble stuff
and then I understood all the mess
I was living in, the senseless fight
between me and my nothingness
the gibberish talk
and it was sad
I must say
but, oh! she was good
in telling things right
even if she eventually got all wrong
or precisely by that reason alone
because reality is what you make
till it bangs hard on your face
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