Next stop...I get off
I blush when I think about the makeup
Of Man. At birth he's weak and insecure
He's helpless, ignorant- a little pup
Has more going for him than this treasure.
And when he matures, mental growth is slight.
He whines and pines and broods o'er picayune
Events: It's too hot! I'm cold! That's too tight!
I hate my job! That cost too much! A tune
That's sung ad infinitum- Maddening!
There's absolutely no relief from it.
He lies and cheats exaggerates most things.
Befuddles, muddles, meddles, throws a fit.
He battles, tattles, prattles-Stop! Enough
I say, stop the world I want to get off.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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