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.