Falling

Let's name all the things that I cannot do, because, for some reason it's important to you, To highlight the facts and to put me down, to show the world this sad little clown, who in your eyes has never been able, to live up to you, to sit at your table. Does it matter to you if I'm rich or poor? If I act like a lady? If I play the whore? If I cut myself to deep to mention, all to gain a little attention, will you give me something? a small piece of you, or am I just the **** on your shoe? My friends all tell me your no good for me, but when blinded by love, It's so hard to see, how much of my time is wasted in vain, when alone with my thoughts, and frozen with pain. When wracked with guilt, over friends forgotten, when in pursuit of a life turned rotten and turning ever so slowly to dust, for I know that I shouldn't, but somehow I must submit to you my body and soul, whilst learning to weave, to duck and to roll with the kicks and punches you love to inflict, on this body so bruised, so broken, so sick. So is there a lesson I'd love to pass on? I'm sure that there is - But the moment has gone.