Wrong

He struggled and he thought, He wrestled with his mind. These people he hung out with, just were not his kind. As a matter of fact, he despised them and he was over wrought. One more time what could it hurt, with this surly lot. He inhaled so deeply He knew that it was wrong The things that went through his head, oh what was that song? The one about the Hotel, oh how did that go? It talked about the steely knives, how could he sink so low. If his mother saw him now, she'd be so disappointed. She'd tie a rope around his neck and then he'd sink like lead. To the bottom of the sea, that would end the pain. The hurt he'd caused his family, when he died in the falling rain. People gathered round him, as they buried him that day. Dressed in his best suit, in the coffin where he lay.