Strange Poem by Patti Masterman
Strange
Strange how badly I always hate it, all over again
Each time you give me that 'parasitic leech sucking
On the blood of humanity' stare
That you've rehearsed us on so many times now
But even worse, is that sound, as you try
To ring up on the register the total cents
Of my futile worthlessness; but then
You run out of decimal places, every time-
Even though I have always given you my bag of quarters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 1:42:01 PM # 1.0.0.1119
