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If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world.
After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labour to reading six lines aloud.
I fucking hate this thing
some of them i hadn’t even seen before
you left behind, the emptiness that beats in me like the
muffled drone of catechisms or a Catholic’s last rites.
Your name tastes like the medicine I took as a child to
keep my lungs from filling with fluid. My knees are bruised
from all the praying I’ve been doing of late. Tell me, love, do
you miss me yet? You can’t be entered by another human
being without sustaining damage, you know. You taught me
that. Someday soon my answer to the question, “How are
you?” will be genuine. I’m good. I’m great. I’ve scrubbed my
skin raw. Your promises were weeds in my nail bed. 150 days,
I’m still picking at my cuticles like there’s some hidden treasure
I’m bound to find. I am changing the locks to my back door. My
front door is always open, but listen, you will have to knock. I
will not be home. Leave a note. Etch your calling card above
the threshold, scrawl your name along the doorframe. I’ve left
the lipstick out for you. I’ve found it works nearly as well as a
ballpoint pen. The last words you ever said to me: “Thank you.”
I’ve never been good at saying goodbye. This is the last poem
I’ll write about you."
Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.
Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.
"Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures." This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.
When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: “my travels have changed me…”
Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: “every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”"