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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 29, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 29, 2017



I guess I wasn’t Aryan enough for you.

My teeth are green, my hair is thinning,

falling for you was like going through

an obstacle course that precludes winning.

Neglecting my life before the day we met:

a stain that cannot be removed, I fear

atrocious calamities oppress me yet:

my fate to be a somebody, a seer:

My eyes will be cast out and they will pierce

my heart and soul with poisoned deadly arrows.

Ashamed to be drenched with these weak man tears,

ashamed to be a lazy useless fellow.

Of course there are few tears that plague me now,

although someone called my mother a cow.

© Copyright 2017 Saul Przybyszewski. All rights reserved.