I’m a man of nineteen
a man of forty and thirteen.
Liking beret hats
and videos of cats.
But I realised—in this world
nobody is that bold
every night is a purchase
as you sink further from the surface.
On this surface, real love is found
where feelings of tender romance compound.
In today’s transactional society
decisions require no piety.
What is this supposed to mean—
how can I unsee what has been seen?
Does love as we know it exist no more
just one-night stands making you feel empty and sore?
This world, though, I’m willing to discover
with many conspicuous secrets to uncover
I just hope in the end I’ll still be me
Still being the gallant, courteous and gentle man I would like to be.