Atlantic City, NJ, March 28, 1972

Why don’t you try?

By Vladimir Huber

He was born like any other baby.
He grew-up and went to school.
He sold newspapers, so, someday
he was going to make it through college.
He finished high school,
and his parents pat him on the back.
He went to college and worked,
at the same time.
All the family was proud of him;
well, he made such an effort.
He transferred to a graduate school,
well, he wanted to be more.
He was, kind of distinguished,
and, he knew it. He was told, too.
He has been fighting all his life,
and that’s the way he likes it;
that’s what he says, at least.
He became a doctor, and well,
he had to get married; what else.
What a waste!
Now, I’m sending him flowers,
‘cause he never met happiness,
but he was praised.

God save the pushers
of pride, respect, ambition
and other vices.
Suicide is not such a bad thing;
that’s a comment that he made
about a year before he enjoyed,
the escape from the ladder of torture.
He was just one more,
trying to prove that he can suffer.