I wrote a poem defining my life, it didn't make it through, Didn't put it in word, now its lost, i thought it was perfect. Well more crap for me, An old guy who I got respect for, but is one of the people who I am a splinter away from hating, pulled the Hypocritic oath out from between the sole of my shoe andthe floor, I screw up, I sit out, five guys come pretty damn clos to gang beating me, And all i get is a break it up guys after it happens and not from him. He then has the Gaul to point out to a guy I know to correct me on something everyone does wrong. My elbow had just been slammed to the floor under the weight of five guys, two secs before, sorry if the hand on that arm isn't straight enough. Old smoking F***. Double standard always on this side of the fense like a grenade thats to late to throw back. This makes me wanna move outta this place. That and my best bud was the one to correct me under his orders, Not fing backing, slimy little F***. Bad Day