Et vois, le début de la fin,
Où la poésie est qu'une tricherie
De mes espoirs inassouvis.
On a fait toujours
Les petites bêtises,
Étant si honnête -
C'était notre maladie.
Or on se brûle d'un fort amour,
Si vite que la cendre qui suit
Ne peut que dire: <<Fini>>.
It's like a pop quiz
That comes out of nowhere,
Hits you in face with questions
That you can't bear to answer.
Time starts now.
1. Will he stay?
Yes, he might.
But only till he tires of me,
Till he realises my baggage
Will not be left behind,
That I must carry all my memories
Everywhere I go,
That I hurt
Intentionally
Everyone I know.
2. Does he love you?
Yes, he might.
Because he looks at me with love in his eyes,
But that vanishes with my distance,
And behind my back
It trails everywhere looking for other sights,
And I want to care but I can't,
Because what right do I have to demand
For a love that I should never have.
3. Does happiness lie in a diamond ring?
Yes, it might.
People look so happy in all those pictures
They post in social media, it's all happy,
It looks so real you can touch it,
But photos only capture a moment
And there would be so much pain
That you photograph in your mind
To blame yourself and cry
Every night to sleep.
Time is up.
The results are out and they said I failed,
My pop quiz asked specifics always known,
And I knew nothing.
Which has always been, the case.