No Rose Colored Glasses

No Rose Colored Glasses

A Chapter by Abdul Batin Osman Bey

When People die regardless of how they actually felt about the person the dead become an automatic great person. I just want people to be honest, when I die just remember as I was not an idealized.


When I leave this earth

Don’t put the myth on me

Saying how saintly I was

Overlooking my flaws

Pretending that I was perfect


Don’t put the myth on me

Like they did to Grandma Clementine

She went from being an old pain in the a*s

To a divine being within flat line to the grave


Don’t put the myth on me

Remember me as I actually was

Celebrate my flaws

Learn from my errors


Read my poems

Listen to my music

Without rose colored glasses




© 2013 Abdul Batin Osman Bey

Author's Note

Abdul Batin Osman Bey
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Added on July 13, 2013
Last Updated on July 13, 2013
Tags: death, myth, saint, flaws, perfect, Grandma, ass, grave, celebrate, poems, music, rose, glasses


Abdul Batin Osman Bey
Abdul Batin Osman Bey

Cambridge, MA

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