Don’t You Dare!

Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!
I can do whatever I like,
so you don’t need
to feel sorry for me.
My life is my own,
this whole town is my home,
and I take my friends as I find them.
So ditch your pity – walk on.
Keep your snide
sideways glance
to yourself.

Don’t mistake me
for a sad, junkie looser –
see – these are my poison of choice.
They won’t kill me today, or
any time soon, and besides,
from the look of your miserable
mealy mouthed
sneer, those tell tale lines
round your Avon
glossed lips, you aren’t averse
to a swift drag yourself.

So, don’t you dare judge me
with your clip cloppety shoes
and your Clarissa Bell scarf,
yes, I know who you are,
a home counties clone, with your
middle-management drone of a husband,
a safe two paces behind.
Just like Mum, before she spat out my Dad.
So just toddle off home,
and don’t dare
feel sorry
for me.

This is based on the Fee Easton photograph (see above) prompt at One Stop Poetry Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge