Most of us write bad poetry as a teenager which, at the time, we think is brilliant.
I had previously shared one with you called Conviction before Trial… dated about May 15.
Here is another, which shows that I was probably suffering from depression way back then too, just undiagnosed.
Feeling Sorry for Myself.
I don’t know why
But I’m so lonely I could cry
I’ve got friends around
But when you need them
They’re nowhere to be found.
My family’s out having a good time
And for all they know I could be committing a crime
Luck has it, I am just sitting here writing
When they are out drinking and biting
into nice food
I’ll feel sorry for them the morning after
But when they have all the fun
They expect me to fetch and run
So how can I feel sorry for them
Put them to bed, put the pigs in the pen
Tell me how, and I will do what I can
To teach me to become a family man
When I get older I’ll not drink, smoke or swear
I’ll just sit at home, and think I will care
I’ll care what happens to my family and me
And I’ll start to build a family tree
So when I’m older and getting grey
My kids will teach theirs to kneel and pray
A respectable family I will grow
And with the knowledge that I know
I’ll bring them up that way
So they can look forward to a rainy day.