by Len Kuntz
I keep thinking;
if only I were a little shorter,
fatter, uglier and thick-skinned,
then things would be better.
If only I weren’t witty and sly,
well-read and tan.
If only I were a hemophiliac
and there was a sharp knife handy,
the world would
be a perfect place.
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Oh, how sad.
ReplyDeleteI like this poem!!
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