mess

oh what a mess my life has been
what point, what point, I cannot see;
I've given little, taken much
and really see no point in such

I care not that that this isn't 'good'
('real' poetry? as if I could!)
it's just some thoughts that sit and find
themselves all stewing round inside my mind

my three sweet Persian girls are gone -
I may or may not later on
meet them again, in sweeter places:
now, I feel their loss. No rhyme.

The little ginger boy who's here -
he's got my heart, no fear, no fear!
I don't know what I'd do without him:
he keeps me going, loving, living

I'm older than my years would say -
I can't see farther than today:
what when and where will I become?
Or nothing, nothing, nothing, numb?