Hang on, stitching together your page...
You do remember my life’s situation?
How I must hide the patches on my shirt
and hold no rank, no kind of social station?
I’m common, barely one step up from dirt.
If charged with any crime or put in jail
my family also pays for my mistake.
We’re scraping by.
You know my father ails.
For me, I’m sorry, too much is at stake.