The World Never Wanted You, and Neither Did She

It's easy to see it when you're alone,
being stoned, condemned, dethroned
from a chair you never owned
in a world you never condoned,
as if you ever could control anything at all.

Cast away, as judgemental stones
make you moan, scream for your broken bones.
Snapping, creaking, cracking
as your sobs drone on and on and on.
Wishing, wanting it all to crumble, to fall.

And that's where it begins,
when the pain and the loss, sends
a message you must face;
tells you to, "know your place"
and from it's pit beg and crawl,

for you were never wanted at all.

So the story, it changes, right?
When you get off your knees and fight,
and rage against your gifted plight,
and those who delivered it to you
night after night after night, enthralled

by the suffering, the blight
etched, written, carved with spite
into your lonely soul. You take control
with a hope that might, just might
give you a chance to undo it all.

That's when she lures you
into her sights
and takes away your might,
so you can no longer fight.
In spite, she took you by the balls,

then pushed you into free fall.

And that is where it ends, right?
When she sends you to your doom
encases you in the tomb she built
for you,
the one destined to be filled by you
way, way, way too soon.
The World should be appalled, but,

again,

you were never wanted - at all.