There was once a girl...this girl decided to write to her hearts content. passionate poems of love, dark scary tales of woe, you name it she wrote it, but one day someone came up to her and asked,
"Why do you write such garbage? like seriously, you'll never be any good, cause this just ain't your thing, so hurry up and quit wasting our time with your waste of space and just stop already, my god"
...
This however, took the girl by total surprise, she had honestly thought her works where good, she kept getting such good responses and so many likes on each poem she wrote....
so where had this come from?!
...
She didn't understand, so she shoved it out of her mind and continued, but with each new work came new insults:
"wow, what utter trash"
"you call this good?"
"what a load of crap!"
"don't make me laugh"
"you should just hurry up and quit writing such ****** 'work'"
"hurry up and just stop already"
"woooooooooooow, this is good...NOT!"
"kys you dumb ----"
"just die"
...
And so it continued. each work garnered a new response.
the girl tried to ignore them all, but then the one hater grew to more and more and more, soon she had an entire mob of them yelling "KYS" at her.
....
she had had enough, so she asked,
"do you really want me to stop?"
she got her responses soon enough,
and by the following monday she had made headline news:
The Poet Who Commited Suicide.
...
At least they got what they wanted....right?

En tom stol, forladt, ensom og itu
ligesom det kys der er blevet gemt ovre i hjørnet
et kys der aldrig vil blive samlet op igen

Du fortalte mig at det føltes som om
at livet glider igennem dine kolde hænder
men det eneste der bør glide gennem dine fingre
er mine fingre

Jeg går rundt med et kort over himlen
ikke én eneste sky at se, ingen syngende fugle
eller hurtige flyvemaskiner
Måske er dit hjerte ikke det eneste der er tomt
Men hvorfor siger man så
at der er mere mellem himmel og jord, spørger du