never asked you for a thing

yet you pushed me aside

on bended knee I served

and that day was the birth of a slow death

defiler I was meat at your table

I would pay not to fall from your grace

my blood and my tears were tokens

I was waste to be expelled

to you I was just a number



forgotten on the chopping block

my blood flows like any others

to find pleasure in my disgrace

you held my life in your hands

your exceptance the air I breathe



day after day I always wonder

will I exhaust myself

from this effort cursed to an existence

of being drawn to you

grant me tomorrow or let me die



your expectations grip my throat

and choke my very life

everyday that you appear

I succumb to your pleading

will this be the day of intervention?