How unsophisticated

is the simplicity of my life.

 

Every purchase made

Every plan plotted

Every grand gesture

I recall

Had seemed so right

As if I had at last discovered

The secret of (my) sophistication.

 

And yet today

It all seems so foolishly naive.

 

Something within me is embarrassed…

 

…does that mean I now understand ‘sophistication’?

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