Johanna Anuar

I'm feeling like posting something here but I've got nothing. Well, I'll just try to be honest then:
          
          I hate myself relentlessly. Every minute of the life I'm living now is fuelled with unbearable self-hatred that no one else can know about. That voice in my head, sounding vicious and irritable, constantly taunts me about how much of failure I am. And in all honesty, I agree. So yes, my fellow friends, I'm back. I'll try to post more often but it appears to me that nobody gives a damn. 
          
          Later, my darlings.

Baby blue, lacy shoes,
          Never worn, never born,
          Toodle-dee, don't you see?
          Mum and Dad, both so sad.  
          
          Inspired by the Ernest Hemingway poem: 
          
          Baby shoes. Never worn.

Hi!

One sweet kiss,
          And a bottle of whiskey,
          A little bit of music for my sleeping baby,
          And one rosy smile for the mile,
          For the strangers in the view, 
          So they won't fret when they see you.

The music slowly began,
          As the record started to spin,
          I hear the soothing violin,
          In the cold morning rain.

There is sadness in my heart,
          When I realize, 
          That the reason behind my part,
          Of our separation, is the lies.

HYPOTHETICAL QUESTION
          You enter a bookstore, you spotted an interesting book and took the chance to open it. The first line says, "This is a piece of propaganda." What would you do?