The fuck does it really?
The fuck does it all mean?
To caren’t oh so freely,
To not aim to read in between.
The fuck is this monstrosity?
The fuck does this represent?
This self-aware precocity,
Diving and thriving in its own lament.
Possessions stemmed from possessiveness,
Losses that led to lenience,
No fucks to give and not a fuck to lose,
Too many have come and went.
The fuck does it matter, truly?
The fuck should it matter to me?
These thinking caps are on too tight,
I’ll embrace this coldness cruelly.
Not to say that I am so daft,
This emulation of me is unflattering,
I’ve come to love this newfound craft,
The fucks become irrelevant when they stop mattering.