Inconvenient Guts Poem by John Sensele

Behind my back they whisper
I no longer matter
As my fortunes fail to prosper
While my hope prospects scatter

Clothes I wear they claim don't fit
While soles of my shoes and heel bend
Shirt sleeves tear and quit
Manners and thought patterns send

The wrong signal to friends who for me pray
Day and night despite disliking the guts
That they claim go astray
Driving them nuts

Besides spoiling the fun
They derive from painting me blue
In March, April, May and June
While they argue their assessment rings true

When they suppress my freedom
Wondering what I see in Irene
Who goes out of her way to slay boredom
To make my life both supple and serene

Although I don't care what they think
Leaving me bold and defiant
Whether their glasses clink or wink
As I persist in refusing to become pliant.