The sight of your painted words sickens me.
A self fulfilling misery brings content.
You spread defeat like an antidote to try,
The only thing you've earned is the right to crawl.
I can bring you sadness (if you like?)
I can show you pain (on faces)
I can leave you with the dead (for a while)
And they can ask you why you crawl.
Your effort drags behind with broken legs,
Crying poverty, pain, anxiety and loss.
The boy who cried wolf is laughing just for you,
As you try to walk and are simply left to crawl.
I feel the sickness rising every time we meet.
I see me battering your face with the truth.
I can cripple you with sugar coated lies,
And finally give you a reason to crawl.
