Whenever I endeavour
To pull myself up by my bootstraps,
The damn straps snap
And I collapse to the floor…

What’s more,
When I try
To pull my socks up
They flop down towards the ground
In saggy defiance.

Try as I might to get a grip,
I find myself slippery as a soap bar,
And getting a hold on myself
Causes me to pop out
And skid all around.
I go all out to knuckle down,
Shape up,
Pull my finger out,
Clean up my act,
Mend my ways,
Turn over a new leaf
And walk the straight and narrow
With a stiff upper lip.

The more I strive to self-improve,
The more I find myself
A mucky, messy muddle,
A jumbled, cluttered shambles,
A discombobulated hodge-podge,
A dog’s dinner mish-mash,
A mare’s nest,
A mix-up,
A topsy-turvey welter,
A sloppy paint splatter,
A swirling, foaming whirlpool
Heading for the plughole.

Come play with me?