With Friends Like Mine
My back is sore,
I don’t know if I can take anymore
Of the knives that hit me,
Why are all my friends like enemies?
Why do they appear to be sincere?
But when darkness appears
They turn like the hands of time,
I’m telling you with friends like mine…
My enemies don’t get the opportunity,
They have to take a number to get next to me,
Because my friends get all of my time;
All the hating, backstabbing, and lies.
Their feelings are wounded from the sight of me,
I have to keep in mind that I can’t just be me
Or they’ll think I’m trying to out-do or out-shine;
Then here come the schemes along with the lies.
Because that’s the only way they can deal
With then envy that they feel,
They have to create a plot and design a plan
To break my spirits the best way they can.
Only so that they can feel better,
Thinking they can ruin me, makes them feel clever.
Or if they aren’t busy doing this,
For my kindness and attention they persist.
And if I dare to not have enough time,
Here goes with the hating and the lies.
It soothes their ego to receive all of my attention, you see,
They get bent out of shape as if I’m a celebrity.
Sometimes I feel like I am, the way I duck and dodge words,
Careful not to say this, look like this, or do this—it’s absurd.
I feel sorry for my enemies; they’d better stand back
Because my friends will smell competition and declare an attack.
My friends cease to acknowledge that I am aware of their conniving ways,
So I let them run around me in circles and not one word I say.
Until they bump heads with each other and fall with exasperation,
Again I stand untouched and firm from patience.
I’m sure we’ll engage in internal warfare again,
And once more my enemies will become my friends.