Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2020
Shivering in a cold car
Hours crawling by
What an effing miserable day it is
No whisky in the jar

Yeah tmes were hard back home
Sure we never had an easy ride
Yet laugh we did for we were one
But for me it was time to roam.

Three months back I reached South London
Squatting in rooms on borrowed time
Not good enough to work for uber
Just an unlicensed dodgy one

Burner on lap, awaiting a ring
Maybe it will, but probably not
Hours go by, but it is what it is
I kinda don't care what the day will bring

Ring, I jolt and say "It's Joe"
A collection awaits a few miles away
Foot on the gas, I can't be late
A hard looking man and his young looking **

An address shouted without a greeting
A terrified face in the mirror
Far to young to be doing tricks
Those eyes drill with their pleading

I remember Mary and what's right
Sneaky call to the 999
Give them the details including the scar
Can't sit back and watch this *****

OneΒ Β week past and no change in life
Sitting in my old coat in a cold car
Pick up two lads to Quinlan's bar
"Grass" the last word before I feel the knife.
Written by
Paul OConnor  25/M
(25/M)   
261
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems