Dying 9ball
Enter the billiard ball with a 9 on its back and a tacky scrape of blue
It weeps of the spinning and grinning that that vector had put it through
It moans and groans and screams a screeches with no one hearing its cry
That poor little billiard ball just got poked in the eye!

How may a 9 ball have an eye? A stranger might ask.
But the billiard ball can’t tell you because he’s drowning from his flask
The drunken sphere so full of beer so beaten and bruised and dense
never thought of just rolling out of the way but to him it makes perfect sense

That 9 ball so bitter and black just busted his whole life through

All his other little dense friends had to stop his repeated abuse

As jaded and weary but tough though he was he started turning blue

An opaque little meatball the fighter was, but crying his whole life through.

Now the 9ball had a pressure streak that he thought he’d keep from me and you

But one final shot in the corner to the left and up the 9 ball blew

We’ll remember that ball to this very day as we play our game again

But the lesson learned hear isn’t one to forget, you aren’t anything without your friends.