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Mar 2012
Walls dark with slurry
I clamber up the sides, my life in a hurry
But down I slide, ever landing to hard to see
Never will I be free

I beat myself up every day
I cannot climb the ladder this way
They tie me down upon the ground
The shoes they wear, on me can be found

I am the doormat
The bridge for them to step up at
This work just makes me sadder
Why does it really matter

The ladder I wish to climb, is slippery you see
To succeed at life, is a mystery to me
How I wish I could live
Even if they would just give

Give a little of what they have to me
The breads crumbs, I would leave
To the next who climbs the wall
So they would not have far to fall
Pamela Loykowski
Written by
Pamela Loykowski
922
   Gordi Turnbull
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