<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485712" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>an unhappy childhood of this man who names himself 'I'.....</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i've seen this picture of you<br>on that far corner of the world</div><div style="margin:10px 0">land of snow and you are inside that very thick<br>winter clothes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is that smile in your face<br>and i am taking a closer look</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is sour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i know what sour is. I've been one for forty years<br>wearing that </div><div style="margin:10px 0">sour smile, and i have many reasons why a smile must be sour<br>for forty years</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the reasons are sour <br>very sour</div><div style="margin:10px 0">beyond those tastes of a hundred green lemons</div><div style="margin:10px 0">or a green mango with some disturbing gums on its mouth</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i burned all my pictures in college<br>except those when i was yet a boy beside my mama and our white dog</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i was in grade one and i did not like school and mama forced me into it</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i was selling chocolates and i ate them all and mama was mad at me and beat me with a stick</div><div style="margin:10px 0">papa did not like me reading books as he does not know how to read</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i climb trees and hide on the leaves and read stories<br>in our dialect and draw some pictures of women without their dresses on</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you see i still have this picture of myself riding a carabao and hauling some wood and coconut palms</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i take a close look of my own smile, It is very sour<br>and it tastes like yours, but perhaps mine is the worst</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but i am happy now, i know how to suppress sour smiles, i know how to manage and project myself</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i smile like a cow now, and laugh like a horse<br>because all of them are dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485712" data-title="An unhappy childhood of this man who names himself 'I'..... de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="i've seen this picture of you on that far corner of the world land of snow and you are inside that very thick winter clothes there is that smile in your face and i am taking a closer look it is sour. i know what sour is. I've been one for fort..."></div> </div> </div>

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