I have just been trapped
In AB, just wasting space
Wasting bytes, words and actions
That's what the MoFC reader could see
But trust me, it's Not wasted
It should break my heart every time
I'm an artist
Masquerading in the AB world
Drawing ABers downing their tailcocks
or wrestling with polars, no sadness or distress
There is no misery in MoFC, happiness it's still there
My own space, my emotions
No one don't know the real Me
No one does
Don't worry though, maybe you're helping me find the real me
No tailcocks - I could do with three
But no, substituted by space in AB.