© Christopher Raine



Will you follow me
if, I follow you?
A desperate plea to vanity,
a make pretend belief in you

Can you call out any reason?
Do you even think to view?
The ones who follow back,
when you drop them like you do

Does it scratch your tiny fetish
when you speak of nothing new?
Another cliché promise,
reeks of your cheap perfume

Do you think for just a second
when you’re doing what you do?
You disgrace an earnest passion,
but at least, you follow you