Oh dear..
Oh my,
I've seemed to have lost
My place in this world.

First I was your doormat,
Your piece of meat,
Your whore..
And now what could be more?

I beg your pardon, Sir,
But how will you control me today?

Another chore on my knees,
I presume?
Another reason to gag,
I'm sure.

And my resume is filling
With book definitions,
Identifying my every move,
Counting my every mistake.

Such a lousy resume
To toss across the floor.
They all sneer at me;
All I'll ever be is your whimpering whore.

My position is full,
There's no way around it;
I have no understudy
To take my bitter fall.

I'll be your definition..
Your very own book.
I'll be your push-toy doll:
Your poke and prod amusement.

I'm your filthy pride of reason,
Your dimming star in the sky,
Your feathered pet bird
That will never learn how to fly.
 
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