He said “don’t make me choose”.

Lowlife scum, I am.
Never of importance,
To those I deem
The utmost important.

This place I was shunned to,
Rock bottom of the priority list.
Loving me was hard to do,
Chores are better, at the very least.

What am I to be compared
To the unfolded, waiting on the chair?
What am I to be compared
To the sleep you’ll lose, oh the despair.

I talk as I care and I talk as I may,
And all i begged for was to get some loving.
But as quiet as stone I should shut and should lay,
All but hurt, and unloved and heart throbbing.

Funny how the feeling to me is still alien,
As before I’ve been thrown, and kicked and beaten.
To get what I give is all I ask,
I never thought it was an impossible task.

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