Don’t tell me of your life, your loves, your woes,
Or darkest thoughts; nor should you presuppose
That’s how it is, that’s how the story goes.
It’s all made up, invented, I propose.
A poor imagination’s what it shows –
Don’t tell me of your life in boring prose.
For once you start your tale it grows and grows;
There’s little sense of hope – it’s just a pose.
And so it goes, that’s how your story flows.
You miss the highs and concentrate on lows:
The worst of times, when you have come to blows
With people in your life, your friends, your foes.
To spin your tale, remember that you chose
What to include, and what to juxtapose –
You’ve lost the plot; that’s how the story goes.
And telling it won’t bring you to a close.
Excuse my yawns, I feel the need to doze.
Don’t tell me of your life, your loves, your woes –
That’s how it is, how every story goes.
© 2015 Peter Young