Young Fiction Writer

Save face and leave, before she gets mean

You know how to act, you scripted the scene

This film's more a short, a monologue of sorts

Whatevers invalidate the mind reading smile

Now ask yourself quietly, you're a bright breathing funeral

Was it worth all the agony, your last fairy tale?

Scribble out the trite words, on paper always smarter

Looking for the video locked in your left brain

A string of stealth encounters, making sex under the table

Perfect simple positions, like the truth you've learned to bend

Now ask your friends quietly, you get worked over nightly

By the brutal reality of your last fairy tale

Young fiction writer, you tried to live inside her

Depending on paper to save you in the end

Now ask yourself quietly, feel free to answer honestly

It's okay, you're alone now, was it worth one less friend?