Wild Cossack dancer, brain beyond control
and fetal syndrome yet reeks alcohol.
Once with deft hands he manual gifts displayed,
so intricate the carving, yes, first grade.
Now rheumatoid arthritis, dance and booze...
the demon on his shoulder shouts, 'You lose'!
Blame is allotted everyone but he,
expecting all his needs from heaven free.
Strange...recalls his mama as a saint.
No logic there, yet I must show restraint.
How tight the vows which firmly bound this knot?
Endurance ? Oh how long? Job I am not.
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