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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Drama · #1141918
Ice addiction and where it leads.
Getting up everyday is so hard for me to do.
Everyday, I say to myself that this is it, I am through.
Just when I think that I'm really done,
A friend will stop by and I'm convinced that I'll have fun.
This time, a friend of mine is really in need.
You'd think for his troubles that I'd really take heed.
Because once it was me living my own hell,
But this is now him, that's spending time in jail.
He wants me to get his phone, his money, and his keys.
To spring the bail and his bonding fees.
The money and keys he doesn't know the cops want to hide,
The cops are keeping it all - including his ride.
I have a wallet and a phone and I can't give him a call,
It's only useful to me to know who made him fall.
Still this game of roulette, I continue to play,
Knowing that this will be me, with him, in jail someday.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1141918-Why-Me