I’ve written poems by the score
And bled my biro dry,
I’ve written till my eyes were sore
And often, wondered why?
But when my minds in overdrive
My thoughts in racing shoes,
I feel that I have come alive
And I’ve nothing left to lose.
I have no hopes of stardom though,
Fame favours just the few
So why I write them, I don’t know
It’s something that I do.