I was disappointed with the world.
I'd hoped for more
or less;
enough is embarrassing.
I'd expected to find the existence of love hypocritical,
but I'd never imagined there would be men.
What are they for?
And what are emotions for,
and moons? I'd hoped for more moons, perfect moons.
I was disappointed with perfection.
It's so smug,
demanding too much of an only chance.
I'd have said it was only its inverse
if I'd known then.
I was told there would be people, perfect or otherwise
but I've never met any.
I'd thought I'd be assured a priori.
I hadn't hoped for food. That's a perk.
I hadn't hoped for food. That's a perk.
And I hadn't hope for an afterlife;
I'm disappointed nonetheless.