Best Poem Ever!

Well, not quite, but it sums up a generation. My bold.

The Black Art

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Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.

-- Anne Sexton