Give it a miss
I’m twenty pounds down since the fruit machine hoodwinked me to believe I could achieve great things I step off at a loss, in earnest I’m nervous, my pockets lay under furnished, my mood moved me to loose a few morals. Besieged by my own disbelief, I reaped the grief I'd sown myself; I was the star player in the blame game. Where to next? Towards more lager and as I expect, theft and yet more regret.