Sold My Soul
I’m a clever guy, all being told
Greying nicely, not growing old
Have a good heart, stone cold
Speak my own truth, little bold
Really bad attitude, I never fold
Worth my weight, in fools gold
Your credit card, I’ll always hold
What’s that I hear, a cent, Sold!
Paean on poets, for myself
Not for Margaritas contest
By
David Kavanagh
Copyright © David Kavanagh | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment