I feel like my entire life has been conspired upon
Behind closed doors
My fate, my future, my present, my past
Whispered over, scrutinized in secret
As if I, the steward of my own existence,
Would deign to be informed of its direction
Behind closed doors, behind the veil, behind my back
-What will we do with him?
-Where will he go?
-Why is he here?
-When will he go?
Leaning-on quickly becomes burden-to
Quickly becomes beholden-to
Quickly becomes resentment
I’ll have to stand on my own or fall to the side
Relying on no other prop but my pride
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