I didn't want to,
I never did.
The times I tried to stop,
were rejected and tossed aside,
as if I did nothing to quit,
and did as I was told from the beginning.
Is that wrong?
It might as well be a crime,
against me,
them as the thieves,
the president on my side.
When will I,
when will they,
stop?
The voices they're stronger,
faster,
louder than my own.
Telling,
Demanding,
dragging me their way,
while my own road,
get smaller and smaller,
until it's so small and insignificant,
that even I will push it to the curb.
And then, that voice,
will never scream,
or speak,
or whisper,
it's own tale.
Jessica Shek
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-a-doormat/
