Seated at my table, you’ll find me, myself, and I All three different versions talk yet do not bat an eye You must be invited here it’s not an open door And if nothing is brought with you, your feet may hit the floor You see, here at my table are the l ones that I let in It’s few and far between but sometimes they may sit And when you’re at my table there must be something to present Or else the clock is ticking and your time will all be spent It’s always been myself here, some have eaten some have stayed Some have packed their food to go And left me there unpaid But if you’d care to join me At my table you may eat Be sure you have your wallet Or you will not have a seat
This poem is a story about who i allow into my life. There are so many people we come in contact with. Friends, family, acquaintances, coworkers, etc. if you’re like me, you don’t always let these people into your life. And the ones you do allow yourself to be vulnerable with must provide something for you. If they do not present anything more to your life than you already have, but take from it, then those people are not worth having.