Conman

Winter mornings

Are dark matters

We suffer, we the Slow moving creatures

Of this Earth

I’m just an ordinary conman

Doing my deeds

And sometimes getting paid for them

When we are gone we are forgotten

we the insects of mankind

That you need but always denies

Getting By

Feeling like an

Ordinary conman

Just trying to get by

Without being

To hurt

Unable to achieve anything

No success, no money

Just a lot of angry people

Trying to put me down