The Dirty Doormat

[simonsays65]

I am everyones dirty rag
as they wipe their hands on me
cast aside in a filthy bag
soiled, used and stained
only so much washes away
permenantly marked unclean

What is suffering, my friend
How much can I take
before I scream and bleed
Can I break my mind
by destroying the tortured spirit
When they're finally done
what part of me will be freed

So many scars ago
there might have been a chance
for standing up, fighting numbly
Do I have the strength
as I pick up the pieces once again
shattered figment rising deadened
Why am I still breathing, impossibly

I am the dirty doormat
lying here to clean your souls
grinding grime into my hide
tattered, torn and wasted
I am what nobody wants inside
after they walk on me to enter[/CENTER]

[PrinceMyshkin]

My God, dear Simon, how despondent! May I suggest this one change:



there might of been a chance[/CENTER]

should be: "there might have been