Italian version here: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/04/02/poesiache-cazzo-ne-sapete/
What the fuck do you know,
how life will go?
How my life has been?
You just talk so much,
but what have you seen?
What the fuck do you know
If it will stay the same?
You take thinghs for granted,
forget my name.
I will look for fame
And the extreme taste of pain.
You think you know all,
you just can’t take the fault,
you think you’re never wrong?
I don’t, but it doesnt make me strong.
Or weak, just normal, I guess.
Don’t give me more stress.
I think some friends doesn’t really help,
more the harm than the advice,
nothing but a high price.
Sorry if I’m not how I’m supposed to,
guess I don’t want to be like you,
in the end…
a lot of delusions and unmutual love,
maybe it’s me, maybe just something above.
I think I must be better,
not try to find so better people, just me,
So I can get what I want, not for free,
but with sacrifice and effort,
I don’t need an escort.
Maybe some love, needs time,
maybe needs a right place to find their prime.
Maybe needs to be teached,
like friendship: and no be preached.
Everyday I think about the same thing,
not gonna finish it,
who knows what tomorrow gonna’s bring?
The same thought, but different…
My heart doesn’t rest,
I’m still suffering for the past…
I’m still confused: everything was so fast,
now I’m going slow, opening a new chest.