She was right when she spoke of me that day
Each word more painful than the one before
How could she not see what lead me this way?
Unaware she is, that she meant much more
I was to her, as they now are to me
Only a comfort to keep on a shelf
Blind to my purpose, I know they don't see
That I've lied to them, so why not myself?
I've become her to a number of them
I think that they will in turn do it too.
It would seem as though there must be one stem
So now I must ask, who did this to you?
I will no longer use them as my crutch
I'll sit and I'll hurt. I long for your touch.