The Problem With Me

The problem with me
Is how I see reality
I have my own opinions 
Which I've been inclined
To try to impose on those whom 
I see as kind of minions.
Disorganised; institutionalised.
I think I'm slowly growing wise.
I'm guilty too of a certain complacency:
''That'll do'' it seems to me.
An unjustified smugness on my part.
Sometimes I stare thoughtfully into space
Then realise I'm staring at someone's face,
And whenever I get depressed I start
To withdraw into my introverted shell;
Analyse as I'm doing now

Oh well...

MDC