They say <br /> Love makes the world <br /> go round <br />That Hate is really out-of-date <br />Although it still is found <br /> <br />It seems <br /> Sex is here to stay <br /> indefinitely <br />That Lust is a must <br />Especially today <br /> But me <br /> I need not be <br /> It matters not a jot <br /> If I get hot <br /> Or cold <br /> Or bold <br /> Or scold another <br /> Or love <br /> Or laugh <br /> Or cry <br /> Or lose my mother <br /> <br />Life goes on <br /> And would continue <br /> should I die <br />But I alive sit wondering why <br /> No-one seems <br /> To claim the blame <br />For this <br /> unflattering <br /> so shattering <br /> Thought <br /> <br /> Of me not mattering. <br /> <br />(London, UK) <br />(1960)<br /><br />Philippa Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unimportance-of-being-me/
