Sophisticated Blues

I hate myself this morning,
hate my eyes, hate my beard,
hate my nose

I hate the way I smell and
hate that I have to wear
these dreary black clothes

feeling like the world owes me
an apology for the way its been
treating me lately, being so crude

as if no one knows who I am; a
gentleman, a scholar,
so proudly prude

and eventhough my esteem
drags and sweeps
my living room floor

I’ll still prepare and coach myself
to smile, looking my best
walkIng out the door


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