The hardest thing I had to learn

Was that the worst thing you can do to yourself

Is pretend you're someone else

And I just hate and love all the irnoy

Of Poetry, when I read my old poems

Over and over and over again

I curse myself for my stupidty

Was I blind or am I am I really that silly?

And how could have I confused that with love?

But knowing that in two months I’ll think the same about today

Curse the heavens for all that shallow groans

How I wish love was out of fashion this year.