40.

So now I begin again
Like I've got the bends.
Battered and confused...
What's the use?
I'm getting too old for this
And you've just taken the piss.

How can I be me when I never even knew you?
Why should I be sincere when you never even could be so too?
I would love to just talk to you
But there's no trust nor use left in our so-called youth...

I start to move on
And keep on writing "shit" songs.
This is in fact poetry
And I couldn't care what you think
These are my feelings...
Not a romanticists' forlorn feelings...

You said I had a way with words,
And now to take offence to my verbs...
The jokes on you right now
As I can express easily (and how)
How much of a bitch you were...
I'm still in here... writing about you without a care.