Glancing up and down the aisles,
I internalize:
I'm looking for some first time buyers
to save me from myself,
But they put me on the shelf.
I used taste so good,
used to be the freshest fruit,
(but that was long ago before I thawed,
spewed my raw jellyguts on the floor) .
Now delegated to the half off stack,
You'll find me in the sack
(or in the morgue) .
There's nothing left after that initial rush;
Nothing but a coffee stain
In the place of where I used to be
And cigarettes and alcohol
Are now half off for just one day!
(one more night of idle-play) .
I paid their price,
Now I wander lonely behind the aisles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brutal, but true, even without your judicious explanation. A great poem. Thank you! Ivan