Flattery will not be tolerated,
I use what I have for what I need,
I do not care for the publishing ideas,
Shame on you for invading my world,
My freedom to write carelessly,
I cry at the effort to reread my works,
Unable to deter the image of pain that stains each of my poems,
So prospect me these ideas,
And I will crawl into a tiny hole in the world and never come back,
Bedazzle me with compliments,
Shower me with offers,
Pour out the praise,
Show me the door.