i used to think my pain meant something
more than that i was a fool
i used to think some guys were evil
out there in the dating pool
i used to think when someone hurt me
they meant to do me some harm
but now i know it’s human nature
in life’s factory farm
how can i blame any man for thinking
that i’m not worth something
when he’s spent his life artificially milked
while staring at woman shaped nothing
how can a man believe in a love
that has hands and legs and eyes
when the image is all and the touch is none
and smooth screens are better than thighs
how would a man know who is a woman
when so many hate their womanhood
how could he not hate it as much as they do
and not know the bad from the good
so when my heart breaks now
i pick up the pieces in silence
what was a faint shadow in my naive youth
has evolved to demonic defiance
i love like my life is at stake
and when knocked back i do fall
i ache when my heart is left standing
and i cry when he doesn’t call
but i know that this is just part of
a journey that ends at around 50
if not exactly by then
for sure it is over by 60
at that age the chemical romance
will die of natural causes
and i’ll be happier with hugs
more concerned with flavors of dental flosses
i don’t write of heartbreak because
i see the light at the end
when who to shag will be irrelevant
and i’ve already no shortage of friends
so heartbreak seems to me more like butthurt
a grief that will pass with libido
maybe sometimes with a little touch
of an unnecessarily bruised ego
so where i used to cope with my injuries
with poems of broken winged birds
now it’s just music and a night out
to write would just be wasted words
