The morning was post heavy,
Cooling and wet, clear but misty;
Working people went,
While dumpsters tent.

Then came a call,
A friend who was rather tall;
He was my former mate
Back when I was in a fatty state.

He heard things of me,
Wanting to know if they were true;
I said I’ll double check and see,
But let me get back to you.

I called but no one answered,
Nothing confirmed nor enquired,
My father figure, then wasn’t please,
‘Can you be more careful’? he said in anger.

Furious I was,
As it was not my fault,
‘What do you mean’ I said in just,
Over the statement of assault.

All this was for him,
But was treated with ignorance;
All this was to win,
But was treated with no assurance.

How am I supposed to live?
When all hell has break loose,
How am I supposed to achieve,
When I have no say on what to choose?

The morning is post heavy,
I hear the sound of Proton Savvy,
The only thing that makes me sane,
Is the sight of my girl, and the absence of cane.

It’s not my fault and you treated it as it is… I will remember.