Nothing To Prove

I’ve got nothing to prove

the cock on the block

doesn’t worry me

the arse always falls 

out the bully when confronted, 

your sports car is meaningless to me

I don’t care if it goes nought to sixty

in five seconds, I’d rather sit

and stare at my reflections,

your highly paid job doesn’t

appeal to my senses, 

I don’t need plastic expenses 

to make me feel alive,

I’d much rather sit and write

a trilogy of sorts – “sorry mate”

I can’t stand sports,

tribalism and tight shorts

just don’t hit the spot

I’ve got nothing to prove

being something I’m not