Thoughts on the Unfairness of Life

How rare the cypress--woeful tree,
With knees as knobby as those on me.

Why, my own mother does not root
For me, at the beach, in my swimming suit.

Women whom I cast my glance on
Beg for me to leave my pants on.

For my knobby situation
Far exceeds my reputation
As a lover.
And they say that they prefer me
As a brother.

These bony orbs 'twixt thigh and toe
Turn the hottest lust to snow.

Their only use is punching holes,
In which I plant my marigolds.

^__Max Yoho.