No one really gives a damn
how (or even who) I am.
No one really gives a lick
that I am thoroughly heartsick.
No one really gives a rip
that I feel like a sinking ship.
No one really gives a crap
that I may be about to snap.
No one really gives a hoot,
but that does not tempt me to shoot
myself—I’d rather use my time
to write—though no one cares for rhyme.
When just one reader gives a damn,
it helps. I write; therefore, I am
as well as I can be. I do
get lonely, though. And how are you?