When you are worthless,

you see different people, same blank faces,

they brutally brushes by you,

no bonjour, no adieu.

Fate tells me I’ll win if I look my best,

Sadly, life offers me an impossible test.

For what fate says is never true,

He’s simply messing around with silly fools.

A gentle hand picks me up,

I yell: I’m no longer paper, no longer pulp!

I feel the long dreamt caress…

She waltz as she sing: London, Rome or Paris?

Her dark eyes like those of a phantom,

Deep, mysterious, yet amazingly handsome,

Her rich brown hair soft like kitten’s fur,

My profane hand, hesitant of becoming intruder.

…

A river wells up in her eyes,

Hatred and disappointment adding to the tide,

She whispers: It’s not your fault you did not win,

Either way, I made myself cozy in the litter bin.

I comfort myself as I tried to comprehend,

If the dump has fine weather, I’ll even get a tan.

Who can I lay down the finger of blame?

My identity has brought me too much shame,

Me, for not trying hard?

She, for having a stone cold heart?

If I shall be queen,

then she shall be king,

A love song no one bothers to know,

nor sing.