Targeted - Lester Queripel

You call me a fool.
You make me a target for ridicule.
You criticise: you even tell lies.
You think I’m inferior to you.
You’re always mean to me.
You constantly demean me.
It’s all part of your quest to prove you’re the best.
I really wish you’d give it a rest.
Every time I have something to say, you turn away.
There’s no reason for the way you behave.
If you had your way I’d be in a grave.
Did somebody destroy your soul years ago?
Is that why you always have poisoned darts to throw?
I think it’s all a charade, a ‘tragic show’.
To cover up your pain so you don’t get hurt again.
I wish you’d change the way you behave.
It’ll be you that ends up in an early grave.
You’ll gradually implode, under the weight of the load.
You probably won’t heed my advice.
So I won’t give it twice.
But I can see it all.
The writing’s on the wall.
Lessons have to be learned.
The tables need to be turned.
We all have a right to a life.
Let me give you back your knife.
It’s been stuck in my back for much too long.

Lester Queripel