Let me be your whipping boy.And elevate your pain.
Too few people can accurately grasp how meaningless they are.
Opting either for the Grandeur or the obsolete, laying their lives at the feet
Of mass uninterest and disillusion.
I am but a simple child
Prepared to take your beating
Place your pain and persecution on my tender flesh
Give me a reason to keep on going
I keep cutting my finger in the exact same place
As if in a futile attempt to bring awareness into my finger tips
Each time the searing pain commands my focus to this forgotten bit of flesh
It slides back just as easily to the darkness behind my unarticulated thoughts
Lost deep beyond comprehension I bleed
Think of the power I would command
If I could only remember where my finger begins and ends