Apologies From The Twisted Minds Of The Newly Senile Poem by Dan Reynolds

Apologies from the twisted minds of the newly senile

Never mind "fight the fat", it's the fatigue that brings us down.
Ripples of ridicule remain in view, from a panorama of pity,
and a hoard of imbeciles from the family line.
This time, no one snuck up on me, no one was hiding in the coal shed.
No one needed to even exist, to laugh, to jeer, to mock.
My idiocy reached new heights, triggering my inevitable
vertigo and f**k yourself.

Life has a habit of not teaching us old dogs new tricks,
but rather reminding us painfully
of each and every instance where we got it, way beyond wrong,
In another life, should I be so unlucky as to return,
I would choose to identify as an octopus.
Not for their intelligence, nor for their flexible camouflaged maneuvers,
No, I have gathered I am running out of feet to shoot myself in.