I kept aside
I hid my shame
The whole world (but not me)
To blame
I sang my songs
To nobody
And spent days (but not nights)
Lightly
I turned around
And, seeing me
I knew then (sort of knew)
Sadly
In molten life
I was but dross
And would be (patently)
A loss
She told him, “Real men don’t get sick”
He said, “That’s ludicrous.”
She said, “You’d better get well quick.”
He shrugged, “That’s dubious.”
She told him, “I know you are fine.”
“And just how, may I ask?”
She said, “You’re too young to decline.”
Then he said, “Kiss my ass.
I didn’t ask to be like this
It’s not what I had planned –
It isn’t something I enjoy
It’s something I can’t stand.
I know for now, that all of this
Is what I must go through:
I’m sick because I am, and now
On top, I’m sick of you.”
