They call me a pessimist

Book 20 Page 29

I sometimes think I’m the world’s best or perhaps; worst pessimist.

I can’t tell any more!!!

I don’t know if my cup’s empty,

or over spilling to the fore.

All I know is that nothing is good enough, /

nothing seems to be what it should.

I think I should write a poem about this.

But that wouldn’t do any good!

My friends tell me to stop moaning,

but I usually am not aware that I was.

For moaning comes quite natural to me,

why! I don’t know, ‘it’s just because, that’s why!’

And when I go out for dinner,

I always complain about the food.

And my friends get quite embarrassed,

with ‘me’ complaining attitude.

But I really don’t mean no harm,

I’m really (deep down) a nice guy with charm.

And I’d give anything not to be a pessimist,

well anything! but a leg and an arm.

For my friends call me the world’s worst pessimist,

but I tell them that “there just being critical.”

And with that they wave their arms in the air saying,

“Well God’s! That’s just bloody god dame typical.”