Because as I draw closer to mid-life, I realize I'm probably going to write crappy midlife poetry anyway. So I might as well do it at my pace, and at my will rather than because apparently all middle-agers simply do at the behest of time and social status.
Bah. Screw it. Here's an untitled poem for ya.
Life is a dream and I'm awake
I've heard all the crap, it's all I can take
I'm not thin-skinned but I'm so hard-headed
See others deserve all that they make
though your time and your life is what they take
You toe the line and feel some contentment
So will you refuse just what they say
Find your own style and live your own way
Certainly these things aren't unrelated?
If life is a dream why am I awake?
I've taken the abuse and seen what I can make
I've seen all the clues but I'm still jaded
I'm still jaded.
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