He’s better, and I’m bitter, As he walks in with that same old glitter That he had those days ago… And I’m just roadside litter now, Something you picked up along the way To spend time on, a distraction; Better than Beckett or Wilde to keep you company On some bleak and rainy day. But even that’s just a matter of opinion. After the flavor filters out, And the truth is stirred in, (Following two lumps of pain) I guess I’m like a cup of coffee, Strong enough to get the job done, But ba-a-arely satisfying… That is, until a better blend comes along. My matter of fact aroma Can’t seem to compete with Roasted French beans, The mystique of a mocha, And the creaminess of the Irish. Nor could I ever compare To the grace and wit Of your latest favorite, Mr. Juan Valdez. My taste, my flavor, is nothing extraordinary… You will find nothing reminiscent Of foreign lands nor the mountaintops You’ve flown over in your dreams. My strengths lie in other areas, Deeper than the deceptive nature Of that first sip and all the hope And promise that lies within The steamy, factory-foam aromas. I’m the common denominator That you’ll see in blend after blend; It all began with me, and my ability To clear that morning fog from your eyes With my blunt, harsh scent And a taste you’d recognize anywhere, Be you here or in Ceylon. Nothing fancy, nothing new It will end with me too. There will be others I know, that taste my Dark, muddy flavor. Perhaps one will find it worthy of Trust, and no need to sample illusion after illusion From Turkish beans… How obscene. So I’ll pour myself another cup, Of myself…how about that? If I can satisfy myself, I can satisfy anyone… Just not you. Pull up a chair Sam, And Oscar, would you pass the sugar?Birth sign: Libra
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