A Little Too MuchMature

4 weeks in a country,

That isn't really mine,

4 weeks where I'm alone

And my sorrow pours

From my heart, from my chest,

From my blueish-green eyes,

The weight of the cheese,

Now shows on my thighs.

They all laugh and smile,

Drink wine, tell jokes,

No-one's noticed I have 

Not yet touched my yolks.

They give me all their love,

My appearance they bless,

But I must confess,

I'm emotionless.

Well, not quite, never none,

But when there's so many 

People, Sorry, I really can't.

The spaces in the gland,

The spaces in my heart,

Are just too much to take,

A strimmer that won't start.

So I'll focus on work,

Not on my love,

Because even if I tried,

The teacher would say " F,

And that's being kind."

The End

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