My life has been too comfortable
For the tortured artist tag.
I've never suffered a scary disease
(Apart from a little jet-lag.)
I've never been hurt in a break-up
I've never been hurt in a fight
I once stubbed my toe on a chaise-longe
I still twinges, but I think I'm all right.
I've got no great secret or scandal
(Though I'm socially awkward as hell)
No hobbies or interests to speak of,
I was never inclined to rebel.
I don't hold much faith in religion
And politics isn't for me.
I wear a frown though comfortably well-off
I'm beige to the core, can't you see?
To simulate angst I've been stabbing
My arm in the leg with a fork.
The truth is, I don't feel inspired
But I've gained a slight limp when I walk.
I've jabbed myself hard in the nipple;
My friends all looked on in concern.
'Don't worry you guys, I'm a poet.'
I protest as I self-Chinese Burn.