John Tristan Tench
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Pubescence Dawn's with a new hairy uneasiness:
The fact of life, the talk of a man.
Deep stature and a voice that cracks the Earth.
The perfume of life, or just a devilish odour.
The longing for women; the quelling of
Unacceptance- oh, poor pitiful things!
Though, as I am one, I am so different.
A bare chest that cuts itself; a chin riddled
With sweat and a pimple few. Hair that but leaves my scalp -
Person with little desires. But how innumerable! Shoes, clothes, attention!
Why must it be? Why, puberty? Them, me, I
Placed myself so differently. How close we...