Sometimes, I feel we are like a monkey which dancing to the violin. She take a scrap of paper as if it were a poem she'd just written on a pile of solemn book. She is waiting for a man who crowning her with the bays when she is offering the works.
The feeling that someone sets my teeth on edge. I don't want to do that kind of person who pleasing others with wit and frivolous pretence. I need TRUTH, not artifice.
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