We could have worked together. Why did you have to try, not to eat your pride? I ate mine. I nearly died, but it was not meant for me to...why did you have to lie? You didn't lie to me. You lied to the Creator. Now we have to answer to the Same.
I blame pride. Doesn't have a nice taste, does it? Bitter going down, settles in the belly. Honey in the rock...jams or preserves, not jelly (jam don't shake) Smuckers, puckers my lips, dries my tongue. Now I'm sung (my song's finished) hung here in the present, looking at the future.
Ready to finish the moral of this story...alone. Thanks, wish you hadn't gone.
Dedicated to Winston Arnold George, Herbert Randal and Katherleen (Katherine) Phyllis...no disrespect.