A Fringe Dweller Poem by Francis Duggan

Don't have a church for to go to don't even bother to vote
Not in a writers group or in a book club or never said I was a poet
Don't have a god to worship don't believe in a heaven or hell
I am just another poetaster and I only pen doggerel.

I do not honour war heroes or weep at the graves of the dead
An ageing and ordinary fellow with little hair left on the head
A stranger on the street I live in few there even know of me
Not what one would call gregarious and anti social maybe.

A sort of self imposed fringe dweller we make our life choices some say
Though that does not apply to everybody it applies to me anyway
I do not go to community socials I sit at home and watch the t v
And as I sit there on the sofa my black cat comes and sits on my knee.

For many years a fringe dweller the way I live I do choose
Don't even fear the grim reaper in death what have I to lose
But is the town's wealthiest and most famous person that much more better than I
After all we are mere mortals we are all born to die.