The mud on your shoes,
Will cling to me,
The squeak of your heels,
Will sing to me.
And you're gone.
But I don't want to be a doormat any more,
Maybe a carpet, a pillow, or something...
Something people will love,
To be me.
And while this doormat writes this lament,
I'm learning to get up, to move on, to repent.
I was vulnerable, now i'm strong,
I'll be your fire, you'll be my song.
My feet are standing oh so tall,
Confidence gives you control of them all.
And i've fallen again.
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