I never like a fate’s sepulchral stare
And never treat my life as dull or bleak.
I never like the any time of year
When I am ill of something - or just drink.

I never like a cynical heart-colding,
Think there’s no excitement - and one more:
When someone very else above my shoulder
Reads letters that for me somewhere were.

I never like half-done, half-thought, half-witty
Or when à talk is killed, a face-to-faith.
I never like a gun behind a victim,
As well as I condemn the point-blanks.

I hate those gossips in a rank of versions,
A worm of doubt, a thorn of lauding fuss.
Or - when a hand of power brings distortion,
Or - when a blade of iron tortures glass.

I never like self-confident repletion,
For me breaklooseness is a better form.
I feel the pain if honour is untreasured
And if a secret slander is the Norm.

When broken wings bleed hard - and I’m a witness,
I feel no pity then - and that makes sense.
I never like nor violence, nor weakness,
But pity Jesus Christ - it takes place...

I never like my self when fear made it,
Get furious when innocence is guilt.
I never like my soul to be invaded,
Especially - be spoilt with a spit.

I never like a limelight - straight and sweating,
This odd exchange: your pearl for their thrill.
Though big and hopeful changes are awaiting,
I know I’ll never like it, never will!