I feel as if I’m taken as a joke in some ways,
Like you turn me in to your lesser some days,
Or for some ambiguous reason you see
That you can just switch up the way You’re suppose treat me…

But I’m not your lesser…
And You’re not my professor,
So do not examine and mark me wrong with the blood of my very own pen,
You’re not my mother so don’t treat me like you wish I was a little child again…
I’m just way to old of that nonsense,
And we’ve know each other too long to have your respect for me not exist…

That’s the only thing I desire and need,
To be treated as good you proclaim…
To be talked to like I’m old enough to spell my name,
Or Smart enough to write it out in cursive…
Or else I’ll start treating you like the worst of the worst of the worst of,
All of those that I cross paths with…
And that sucks for you cuz I’ve came across some bad kids…


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