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Sunday, 12 March 2017

Not My Fault

I had a relapse, arguing at a bus stop
And using myself as a theatre prop
I threw my arms about in a rage
For a considerable age.

I was delusional and frightened
As my perception heightened
I was fearful as to what might ensue
As passengers stuck to me like glue.

You knocked into me, not me into you
It wasn’t my fault, you knew,
Leave me alone as I am prone
To moan and groan in an argumentative tone.

I think, who are you really, and why
Are you  offended enough to cry,
As you struck the first blow
With your partner in tow.

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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