Enid Cavity’s life’s a travesty,
She never gets what she wants.
Her days are mundane and vacuous,
She feels unfulfilled and empty.
Ms Cavity, as she likes to be addressed,
Is a spinster and often gets depressed,
Wondering how different her life might have been,
Each night as she gets undressed.
She’s always worked for a living,
Her jobs being a means to an end,
And although she’s always worn a smile,
She’s never made a friend.
Her existence is bare survival,
Her loneliness is hell,
She’d say she constantly feels worthless,
If she had anyone she could tell.
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
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