The Way I Am

If I reject all fun and frolic, Ignore completely anything alcoholic. My friends would then think me rude, For he's now become such the prude. Maybe I should be in bed by ten, And so rest forever my poetry pen. Then perhaps my looks shall return, A vexed vanity that all fools yearn. At closure what will be will be, Life's ageing pains I cannot flee. I'll burn my candle at both ends, Banish my wishful thinking pretends. My poetry perhaps won't amount to much, My name forgotten, my poems as such. But in the end I don't give a damn, For I shall remain, the way I am.