The son of a bitch and I hate her for that -
if you’ve something to give, then she’ll take what you have.
While you’re breaking your back supporting her greed
she’s changing the man that you thought you would be.
I’ve crawled at her feet every morning I’ve woke.
She’s all that you need, and more that you don’t.
She’s always evoked both laughter and hatred -
but proved the fork in the road to each path that I’ve taken.
All manner of faces have told her goodbye
as she’s naturally aging and growing in size.
There’s been copious times I could’ve left her and gone,
but the lows and the highs seem to strengthen our bond.
She’s never responded to my wishes and wants
so my sense of belonging and affinity’s lost.
She’s different spots that protrude from her pores.
The same people slinging her rocks view her with scorn.
She’s abused like a whore, but never opens her mouth,
I suppose she’s used to them walking all over her now.
When no-ones around, she takes me to task,
by showing me how to change and adapt.
There’s mistakes from her past she’s obscuring from sight
as she’s papered the cracks and moved with the times.
Her once beautiful, vibrant self now ugly and static
secluded in silence and looking abandoned.
She’s bloodied and damaged, she’s lost to neglect,
she’s struggling and carries a god-awful stench.
But with what she has left of her prominent features
she wants to defend beyond logic and reason.
Downtrodden and beaten, shown no respect,
and her options look bleaker the older she gets.
I love and loathe her immensely, but I’m not looking for pity,
just the son who knows he’s indebted to his mother – the city.