Just Stay Away and Mind My Own Business ~ Saturday, June 27, 2026
I have to go home now and shoot myself
however, if I wait for tomorrow
as it is my birthday, I could just wait
veritably another year, the shelf
everyone sees, full of books, I read
tormented by the past, full of sorrow
obliged to speak well of the dead, they bait
generously, to watch a poet write
old wives tell tales, old men would rather bleed
honestly, than listen to the stories
old women tell about how bad men are
maybe if I listen to the worries
empty-headed fools offer me so far
nothing more disagreeable, despite
old men and women who cannot agree
wonders never cease, is this but a game
as you can see, all opinions matter
not a lick to anyone but themselves
decide that life is worth living, a shame
shatter a mirror, seven years bad luck
how mindless to walk the earth and not see
ordinary people, sparrows chatter
ordinary people, full of conceit
tragic to live in this world, on the shelves
monstrous icons of bygone days, I suck
yes, on the nipple of pointless deceit
selfish, unkind, metaphorically blind
empty-handed, hungry, angry and mean
little, ordinary people, I find
fortune worthless, unearned, by chance, so green
however, if I wait for tomorrow
as it is my birthday, I could just wait
veritably another year, the shelf
everyone sees, full of books, I read
tormented by the past, full of sorrow
obliged to speak well of the dead, they bait
generously, to watch a poet write
old wives tell tales, old men would rather bleed
honestly, than listen to the stories
old women tell about how bad men are
maybe if I listen to the worries
empty-headed fools offer me so far
nothing more disagreeable, despite
old men and women who cannot agree
wonders never cease, is this but a game
as you can see, all opinions matter
not a lick to anyone but themselves
decide that life is worth living, a shame
shatter a mirror, seven years bad luck
how mindless to walk the earth and not see
ordinary people, sparrows chatter
ordinary people, full of conceit
tragic to live in this world, on the shelves
monstrous icons of bygone days, I suck
yes, on the nipple of pointless deceit
selfish, unkind, metaphorically blind
empty-handed, hungry, angry and mean
little, ordinary people, I find
fortune worthless, unearned, by chance, so green
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