Sober and the Drunkard
I drink until I drop
While he cheats and get a drop (drop- STI)
Where bottles are emptied I am found
Find him where condoms are filled
And zipped are undone
I drink, flirt and blackout
While he bumps, grind and passout
Weekends I watch football
While he figures out
as to whom to empty his ball
Social networks are his strong hold
Whilst mine is to grab the cold
My lies are easily detectable
His are barely discernible
The point here is that, there is absolutely
No point to be made
Just an inebriated poet
With a biro.
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