Night thing
Up I get from my morning den
I have one job that I rarely go to.
I can call people fat and skinny but
I trace my lines and I’m never satisfied.
Others use me anyhow they please
But it isn’t my job, no matter how much I try I end up being put aside.
When I’m done making beautiful clothes
I’m left to wonder why others can’t see that I’m not always the best myself, so why listen ?.
I can never go home on time and I sleep on the streets as if my home is far.
At least even if I’m not home, I’ll be somewhere that no one truly need me.
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