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I toss in fits night after night,
worried “Have I done you right?”
To give you all the things you need,
I open veins and freely bleed.
I’ve worked for 80 hours a week -
forsaken food, abandoned sleep -
so you can eat your meals out
and never have to do without.
And what do you do in return -
do you show the least concern ?
While I weaken and grow weary,
my existence ever dreary,
not an empathetic query -
all I hear you ask me Dearie –
(After you chastise - berate me)
“What have you done for me lately?”
I sacrifice my health and pride
just to give you your free ride;
I live alone in hovel bare
so you can have them style your hair.
But someday I will be too old
to pay for diamonds, cars and gold
and then when I’m too tired or sick
to give you things – you’ll call me “Prick!”
And what will you do in return
will you show the least concern ?
While I weaken and grow weary,
on my death bed ever dreary,
not an empathetic query –
all I’ll hear you ask me Dearie –
(After you chastise - berate me)
“What have you done for me lately?”
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