Truman Capote
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I want to be with the beautiful people
To be the ugly one everybody confides in
But no one would date
I would tell them the advice they want to hear
And laugh when it doesn't go well
Then write it in my memoirs
And make a million dollars in advance
I could be considered a genius
For all the money I made
Writing the sonnets to them for forgiveness
On my death bed
Without anybody to love
And buried in a cemetery
Where the beautiful quietly lay to rest
And in heaven or hell, I'll laugh at them
As they come
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