I have tried

I have tried

But as of now

I have perfected nothing

Everything is in a state

Of becoming

Being

Or past caring.

Nobody who speaks

Before they think

Is human

Everything is excused

Too easily,

There are no secrets,

Once said.

Whisper me nothing

I will misappropriate

Its meaning

For myself,

Once thought

It will belong to me.

So many of us catastrophise,

More than I can count.

Look at me

Going on about it

For the sake of things

Rather than putting up

And shutting up.

“Stop your gob

Be seen and not heard”

As my grandad would say

He was wrong

About that

As he was

About many things.

If I were to stay my mouth

Instead of running it off

I would be pointless

Which is fruitless

And there is no jam in that