My Boat

I built my boat up, sawdust in my eyes Love and kindness ingrained since my younger years Now just a pile of wood I built my boat up, my hands aching So it would withstand the storm Now soaked with hate The first fisherman came and said, “I cannot get any fish, may I get your aid?” To which I replied, “Of course,” How could I reject such a simple request? The first fisherman is overjoyed, yet says, “This is not enough, may you get more?” To which I replied, “Of course,” It was easy the first time. I use my boat up, the wood began to split But I could always hold more What would a little more fish do? I use my boat up, holes get bigger I can always repair those later When do I have the time? The second fisherman came and said, “I heard you get fish well, may I get your aid?” To which I replied, “Of course,” How could I turn them away? The second fisherman is not impressed and says, “This was never enough, may you get more?” To which I replied, “Of course,” The boat begins to leak I repair my boat up, to keep it going I want to help those in need I can take it all I repair my boat up, one more minute I have to help those in need I can do it all The third fisherman came and said, “Get me fish, I need aid,” To which I replied, “Are you not a fisherman? Get your own,” Is it too late to say no? The third fisherman is offended and says, “But I have asked for you to do it,” To which I replied, “Of course,” My boat is flooded. There I drown, no boat in sight Yet the fisherman still asks, “Where is my fish?” To which I replied, “I don’t know”