And I hold out my phone to pay.
The fuckers dead fucking damn it.
The man usures me on
Another lends me a charger
I charge my phone
When its on- And the driver tells me I haven't paid
I go over- and find there's no apple pay
I curse
I apologize
There's not a single cent
Everybody leaves- I'm the last stop
The bus driver talks to me
Calls me a thief
Threatens to pull the cops
If I don't get off at the next stop.
YOU ARE READING
Getting Better
PoetryThrough and through I have felt down, and even though this, I never thought recovery would really be this hard... Back and forth, up and down, read on to hear my struggle through out.
