I have cataloged my faults.
I can name my strengths if pressed,
All of that's not worth a warm spit of
Crest.
The poet's curse is self-knowledge
and not a thing to do with it
Because he has no clue of where to fit.
I've been around the world, and learned
Only to want not to go back,
Because a foreigner who's lost is cut
some slack.
No comments:
Post a Comment