I've become the worst poet,
you always seem to love my work
when the words aren't mine.

I've become the highest pushover,
I tend to take your unwanted advice
with a closed mouth and a lying nod.

I've become your vassal,
working my hardest to make all your days luminous
wondering why mine are so overcast.

I've become this ball of anxiety,
making sure you are calm and collect in life
while I am stricken with trepidation.

Most of all I've become a liar
for blaming it on you my whole life
when not once did I speak up the truth to you
or myself.