Sunday, 7 September 2014

My Own Choices

Worked my fingers to the bone.
Burned my candles at both ends.
Still I end up all alone.
Short on family, shorter on friends.

Don't complain. Hide the tears.
My own choices brought me here.
I know I was wrong all those years.
But that gives no comfort, dries no tears.

Now hounds are nipping at my heels,
as I struggle with the monthly rent.
I beg. I borrow. I no longer feel.
Pride beaten down with borrowed cents.

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