My last week

Am I a moth,
or a man?
Losing my pen, or my mind,
trying to be kind

So, am I am man,
or a moth,
maybe a sloth,
at least in the days,
when I need to work,

The sloth,
showing its worth,
at work,
to the boss man,
using the frying pan,
correctly,
and then.

Am I losing my pen,
or my mind,
trying to be kind?
Such a controversial rush,
hove, dodge, and slash,
fish and chips, and mush,
(this reference
can be understood by my English friends)

If it was not the autocorrect,
trying to change my life,
talking with my wife,
and realizing that rather
the hell will freeze, and the
politicians will get wise,
rather then her doing a bit of exercise.

Rad, not to be bad, she is doing a lot,
in her own way,
it may
not be what I think,
but then
I blink,
and everything around change

The wind of change
did not bring scorpions,
instead, Magnesium anions
move freely through my veins
and my frustration reins
as I was trying to get
into the Diamond ranks
on Splinterlands,
and I just couldn't, wouldn't
shouldn't try, again and again,
hit by a train,
lost 13 matches in a row,
we reap what we sow,
but funny enough,
talking about this stuff,
as soon as the season ended
I kept winning,
what I was thinking,
sometimes, hitting
your head on the wall,
will break it into small
pieces.
I was told to not talk about my missus
in my poems, you know,
this kind of show
should be hidden away,
if I want to stay,
at my place still.
Yeah, I pay the bill,
but this, while elegant,
is irrelevant.

Hide and seek,
to end it nicely, how was your week?

​