You once told me you appreciate my self-respect.
Well, take a long look.
This is self-respect at its finest.

Did you think you could control me?
Take a minute, humor me.
Did you think I’d bend to your every
will, your every need, you every
pathetic, feeble attempt to get me to do
whatever it was that you wanted?
Did you think I wasn’t stronger than that?

What went through your mind when you said
what you did?
Do arguments entice you?
Does this contention appeal to you?
Does it bring you the pleasure you were looking for?

What did you want? I promise, I can’t give it.
But I can give you more.
I can give you more, and I can give you less.

With the snap of my fingers, your life could be over.
I’ll have you cowering like a lost puppy,
searching for its owner but instead coming across
the man ready to throw you into the pound.
I’ll have you on your knees begging forgiveness,
but will I give it? I highly doubt it.


I’d watch where you walk,
I’d watch how you turn your sad, lonely eyes at me.

You cannot comprehend the immensity of the
concern I do not give.

Who do you think I am? Who do you think you are?
What makes you think you can talk to me
the way you do?
Who are you to tell me what I am?

I’d stop your high horse; I’d hop off now,
before the horse is stolen from beneath you
and you have nothing holding you up
but the sad, skinny sticks you call legs;
those that could be used as a metaphor for your
sad, skinny soul that ceases to exist.

I’d step back, take a look at yourself,
find out who you really are and cut the act
of cockiness, you egotistical, self-loving
creep.

I’d step back, and take a look at yourself in the mirror.
Just try not to break the glass with the high-pitched squeal
of your regret spewing through your fake outer shell.

Through the pores in your skin the real you leaks out,
runs and hides itself from the world because its insecurities
are too many for the reality that surrounds it.

And still you stand alone.