“Pity’s Sake”
I start this sad tale of a man; we shall call him “Pity”,
He had friends but alas (excuse my French) treated them shitty.
Now as tales go he was go higher ways,
When another came into his light; his fake shell cracked in waves.
The act of high polish veneer, showed the true plywood,
His course words that tired to wedge a gap did no good.
Try as Pity might to act above and beyond,
His thumb and a nap still severed him well; if he’d been up too long!
Now we see he took his ball and went home as a child will do,
He is with his friends; as many or as few?
Pout as he may; we will give him a break,
We will smile and nod for Pity’s sake!
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