He was a new guy
He said he was a writer
And ****, at first I believed him
He did have a degree in journalism
He had a miserable look
Greasy hair, greasy face
Greasier than mine
But then he told me
His misery
Came from politics
He only wanted to write
About politics
His constant frown
Depressing stride
Defeated personality
Came from politics?
A strange woman once carved a heart
Into my arm
With a rusty
Swap meet Indian knife
Then we ****** after.
Who the hell has time
For politics!?
They canned that *******
And I felt jealous.
He had a lot more time
To write.