I'm ready to go home already, but I still have an hour of overtime to go. I wrote the poem below tonight. It's about something that I haven't posted about yet because it's not over yet. Is that cryptic enough for you? Good night.
His Name Was “Ron”
You were supposedly grateful for the assistance.
I had supposedly made a friend for life in you.
You supposed I was a very kind person. I was.
It angers me that you are out there somewhere,
planning your next scheme, calculating
your next con. You are an artist, true, but I hate
your work. You fooled me and at the same time
destroyed my trust in human beings. I will never
forget you for that and I will never again try
to help a stranger, no matter how tearful the plea,
how dire the situation seemingly is. I just can’t.
I won’t. It truly is a shame that it comes to this.