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.
