Time for no-one, not even when it came to the matter of his only son
Up for five in the morning, side-stepping all the snoring, the early morning mayhem, good to go, or so it seemed
A quick coffee, a tea if he felt relatively awake
An hour down the gym, to convince himself that he was in fact winning, even if his chaotic life, that atop a ruthless ex-wife, was on a knife-edge
The only time he had to himself, when he got to take out his trusted pen, a mere ten minutes never anywhere near enough
Tough, on with your day, having to balance two, sometimes three jobs in order to make sure the sky-high rent got paid

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