Buddy hilled up them beans.
Piled them into an issue.
Buddy now needed a tissue.
Clear those tears from his eyes.
Prayers topped off with “whys…”
Why me Lord?
Buddy would ask.
He’d been passed
By the good life.
A pass became a slight.
Like, life sure hates me!
Buddy could not see
He was passing him by.
Those tears he wanted dried
Were cried by him.
He could not win, because
Buddy stood in his way.
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