I’m a simple man and nothing more,
of mediocre means neither rich nor poor.
People misunderstand my quirky ways,
I don’t seem to give a flying fig these days.
I’m more than content with the man I’ve become,
I march to the beat of my own drum.
I wear my failures like the finest weaves,
but not foolish enough to wear my heart on my sleeve.
My imperfections I keep at my feet,
so as not to trip I keep up with their beat.
Don’t look to me as shrewd or savvy,
I just found in myself a way to be happy.
©bd_caissie
B