Again and Again.

Over and Over.

You tell me I'm not good enough.

So I believe you.

And I try to do better,

But to you it's only worse.

So my spirits are broken,

But my arms,

They are strong.

Yes, you've made sure of that.

I can work.

But now, I'm afraid,

My own eyes decieve me.

And mywill is growing thin,

But you don't care,

Because I can work.

My mood has darkened,

My priorities have have slipped,

But I can work.

I am little more than worthless,

But I fear it isn't enough.

If I were to 'slip'...

'Slip' and not get up,

Would you care?

Yes, of course you would.

But not about me...