You have read these poems.
Now I know how you feel.
But don't think I'll stop.
A cockroach can't be killed.

Next to you, I fade.
My shame is just to great.
Why do I write these?
When you'll just turn away?

You are like a fly,
To my butterfly net.
Someday you'll be caught,
But that day isn't yet.

I am the mad man,
Who pins the flies to walls.
One day I could hurt
The fly that brings me awe.

So please fly away,
Here comes I, so go.
You don't need my pain,
But still I love you so.