How can you not see?
How can you not know?
Not hear

The manipulation beneath the concern
It may be real to her
The concern

“I just want what’s best”
For you
(For her)

“Best” is a narrow place to be
Pressure from all sides, pinning you in place

You’re just a puzzle piece
If you won’t make yourself fit in your place
She’s happy to help you cut off
                                                         the parts that don’t fit

Her image
Her vision for her world

It’s hard to resist
When she believes her own press
That she is the savior
The martyr

The truth is

She is a spider
And to be free of the web
Sometimes requires

Cutting all ties

Opinions,
Knives impaling frail muscles.
Their weight becomes,
Much to cumbersome.

She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I did not want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I didn’t want to be one.
She christened me a sailor.
I realized how useful knots could be.

I did all the drugs
And I drank at the pubs
And I fought in the lots
And I ran from the cops
And I did everything
They tell you that you shouldn't do

But now I'm diagnosed
Cause my heart's end is close
Cause it's growing way thicker
And it's making me sicker
Genetically inclined
To die before my time

They sent me to church
Because I'm in the lurch
Told me I should pray
'Fore my life goes away
And I prayed really hard
That they would just go *******

But now I'm lying in bed
And my heart's full of lead
My pulse has gone stagnant
And my thoughts are jagged
Would I change a thing?
No, no, not for you!

Honestly. I'm tired of hearing it. Who are you? What are you going to do in life? How will you make your mark? What will you amount to?
That's not a real career. Have you thought about something else as a more practical career? You won't succeed.

How can I think freely if all my thoughts are full of holes? Everyone nitpicking them until they no longer exist, what's the point of even trying?
How can I succeed if everyone pushes me back into my bubble? What am I supposed to do if I can't even leave? No one expects me to leave, either.

How am I supposed to get anywhere if I'm surrounded by high expectations? What am I supposed to accomplish? I can't get anywhere today. The bar's too high. All I can do is complain. Is this really all I can do? It's so... awful. It's a bother. It's a nuisance. I hate it. What am I meant to be?

And where were you when I needed you the most.
As I was wrenching on the floor -- pleading with my ghosts.
When my burden was too much, when I looked in your direction.
Nothing but the wind I felt, and the cold tear of rejection.