I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.
Dorothy Parker's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Symptom Recital by Dorothy Parker )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Tonight When I Sleep, Randy McClave
- Music, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Freedom From A Dreary Forest, Monk E. Biz
- I, Me, Mine, Manisha parmar
- My Silver Dime, Is It Poetry
- Cavern, Morgan Michaels
- Lumber Jack Dupree, Denis Bourgeau
- this is for you...or whatever, Mandolyn ...
- O Seductress Of Mine, Folayemi Akande
- if the sun blows up, come find me, Mandolyn ...