*** I was feeling a bit feline when I wrote this… July, 2009
Look honey, I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m not your personal Jesus.
I admit to being slightly flattered, but mostly I am offended…
To think you imagined I would sink so low,
That I would sacrifice myself to please you, to bend for you,
You have me mistaken for a maiden fair, but I suppose that happens a lot…
However, I could be your damned one. Do you need a whipping boy or a scapegoat?
Yeah, that could be me,
I’m always willing to take the blame,
Always eager to bleed,
But no, I am not an un-sullied one,
Don’t ply your trade on me.
So cut the line, dislodge your hook, and let this this fish go swim,
I’m a wild thing, I am not your savior,
Nor slave to midnight whims,
These wings were cut many years ago,
They no longer sparkle and fly,
But don’t feed me false sympathy,
Don’t try to hold me while I cry,
Just go fishing where the prey won’t bite you back,
And don’t ask others to save your soul,
If you’re looking for a housewife to sew your socks,
I do not fit the role.