How do I approach you with
The look of resentment scrunched onto your face?
And how can I talk with you
With the sound of psychosis reeking from your voice?
Come to me in the night,
I’ll chat, you’ll chat, you’ll throw my shoes into my face.
You never used to think I was so different,
But now, you push it onto every walking being.
Worms surely don’t deserve to hear
Of my minor publications in the tribal newspaper?
How am I supposed to come to you
As you talk of me like a great find,
When all I am, all I’ve ever been, was Suge.
Sad and desolate, you pushed me into an existence
I needed not to be a part of.
You say I’m great, smart, intelligent,
But after all these years of wanting to hear that for my minor accolades,
You are telling it to me for something I’ve always been doing,
You fawn over me for writing,
Like you were always there supporting me
Each step of the way.