Why do you get to care?
you weren’t there
when I was scared
when I was tired
when I screamed
or couldn’t move
So why do you get to be here now?
up on your horse
you don’t get to ride up
and offer your hand
while I’m in the mud.
maybe I don’t want saving,
maybe the mud is good, cool,
maybe I like the feeling
that I’m finally exactly what I accuse myself of being