Martyr

I am a joke, what are you saying?
Don’t you see that devil in me playing?
My angel wings are fading; they’re graying
There is absolutely no god I am portraying

I want what I want, and I deserve to get it
Fuck the rest, they’ve never been through my shit
I’ve been yelled at, I’ve been hit
And, what – you expect me to sit?

I won’t take it, absolutely not
Not fucking way will this bitch feel so hot
Burn me in flames, kill me with words – you deserve to be caught
My feelings, dreams, and desires – must you be reminded of all you forgot?

You’re a sweetie pie, sure
With that bitter inside that rots in manure
Always one to guilt, never to justly persuade or allure
I should know; you’re the reason I’m so insecure

~*~*~*~

It sucks to be the martyr, that much I know
To never be the happy one, but always steal the show
To always be appraised, but still feel so damn low
To never not be saying, “This is it; this is how I go.”

I know that I am not a victim of shunning
Yet I always hit the ground, but never hit the ground running
They call me strong, but I am not one to be cunning
Under all this pressure, I’m still considered stunning

“Look at that angel, so kind and generous.”
“My little angel, the absolutely precious!”
“There goes my little one, ever so courageous!”
Fuck you all; am I not allowed to be treacherous?

Do you not see the pain I wallow in?
Everyday, I feel tossed out in the bin
Cold, ever so frail and thin
All it takes are the daggers in my heart to cut my skin