What if my self-love channel is to love others?
Maybe that’s my curse and my cure.
She’s a classic workaholic, high burnout risk,
Never passing the workplace stress test.
Head orgasm—turning compliance to resist,
Every triumph calls the vultures to cut the cake, I guess.
Gossip like flyers, Glossier buyers,
Folklore turned brochure, silence to inspire.
Words fail, so I write till the world bleeds ink,
Run-on sentences, on the edge, I think.
Every day’s new, here comes Sora²,
Rotten to the core, they rated me poor.
All these boys want support, but none build rapport—
How can I be soft when I’ve seen the war?
Please do me a favor, save my self-respect,
Your lens defines the me you project.
The world’s a mirror, I can’t disconnect,
I’m unbearably itchy from the intellect.
sabotaging papa, hot-tempered mom,
You said be consistent—well, I am, stay calm.
I care for the ladies, the childish new gene,
My finsta’s my diary, my land unseen.
Persona earned, every day a new genre,
Life’s a film looping in hidden drama.
Courage to stand out when no one stands by,
Bullshit destiny, the city’s the lie.
All our meetings orchestrated,
By hearts calculated,
Heaven-sent match? Nah—fabricated.
Invisible cities, unbearable being,
Why stay quiet when the crowd’s not seeing?
Lazy but busy, city’s still dizzy,
Refusal in disguise, clouds get witty.
This is my prose of accusation,
Condemnation in rotation.
Journals never end when lovers meet,
Forever evolving, incomplete.
The fate of Laertes—mind in retreat,
Physically safe, but my thoughts repeat.
Please do me a favor, save my self-respect,
Your world’s perception keeps me in check.
I stand here helpless, can’t deflect,
A cursed child feeling blessed in retrospect.
Sternstunden der Menschheit—I’m the brightest,
Tabloit goddess, cyber crust, the whitest.
My info priceless, Nile dust timeless,
Bridge in Peking—they named it mine, yes.
Carefree girl chasing wind unseen,
Instrumental value in the in-between.
Pressure test impossible, but I confess,
Truthful to fact—I was born the queen.
The world’s not a colosseum, it’s my playground.
My clone will hang in museums one day,
But today—
I’m here,
Still breathing through the pressure test.