My Type Out Of Fashion

Those without compassion they wish me in hell
As a cynical non believer, god forsaken infidel
But like all others I have a life story to tell
As just one of the many who pen doggerel
Not the type of person poetry organizers invite
To recite his verses at their poetry reading night
But what matter if my best is not seen as good enough
I'm never unhappy when I am penning stuff
Some three decades of years past my physical prime
My type out of fashion since the death of rhyme
'Tis said poets are born and cannot be made
And few make a success of the wordsmith trade
And writing for many is a hungry belly game
And few out of writing know of wealth and fame.