A pretentious poem.

He said:

There is no sense in retention of pretension;
Holding back the ecstasy of self to please unnamed gods of vice.
There are others that would tell you, tell you different advice.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
It is all a lie.
There are others that would tell you, tell you without telling you why.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
Vein attempts to fool.
There are others that would tell you, tell you only to make you their tool.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
To thine own self be true
There are others that would tell you, tell you this is a lie -
and that will only make you blue.