Inconvenient Guts
Behind my back they whisper
I no longer matter
As my fortunes fail to prosper
While my hope prospects scatter
Clothes I wear they claim don't fit
While soles of my shoes and heel bend
Shirt sleeves tear and quit
Manners and thought patterns send
The wrong signal to friends who for me pray
Day and night despite disliking the guts
That they claim go astray
Driving them nuts
Besides spoiling the fun
They derive from painting me blue
In March, April, May and June
While they argue their assessment rings true
When they suppress my freedom
Wondering what I see in Irene
Who goes out of her way to slay boredom
To make my life both supple and serene
Although I don’t care what they think
Leaving me bold and defiant
Whether their glasses clink or wink
As I persist in refusing to become pliant.
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