I will no doubt trip up.
Fall on my face and look a fool.
I’ll put my feet in my mouth no doubt,
Step in something inadvisable,
Reveal my fractured nature in a public place.
I won’t appear all that successful
Or triumphant at times,
I’ll not be flavour of the month,
Or the minute,
Or hero of the week.
I’ll most likely be a loser from time to time,
Perhaps even topping the chart of losers.
By the Lover who doesn’t expect
He just invites
And bumbling friendship.