I am the black sheep,
Just like in the rhyme.
I am different, but everything is always asked of me.

I have no more wool to give,
Or energy to offer you.
What more do you expect from my bare soul?

I have torn everything I loved away from me.
Everything that made me who I am,
Just to give it to you.

Are you satisfied?
Are you happy with holding the weight of my burdens?

I hope you are.
Because even if your weren't,
You would only give it back with threadbare cracks and half of it missing.