Whatever hell you’ve been through
She has endured much more than you
Whatever territory you own
She will claim it as her home
We stood by and watched her fall
As she spurned the greatest gift of all
She could not see what she had already
And that, we all agree, is her greatest tragedy.
I stamp my feet,
This is not fair
For I am the Patron Saint
Of Victims Everywhere
Self-appointed, self-anointed.
But never, never effaced
I offer superficial harmony
In a chaotic world and this is why
I am universally embraced
Oh, come all adore me
For I am the one you have chosen
To stamp your identities upon
I am womanly, you see
The epitome of purity and passivity
But, in time, my foot soldiers fade away
Their attention strays, it wanders elsewhere
While I look for a way to remind you
That I am still the Patron Saint
Of Victims Everywhere
Adoration dissipates and this unlit stage
Is a lonely place. I expect empathy
But I cannot reciprocate
For I do not want others to share
My status as the Patron Saint
Of Victims Everywhere
The auditorium is deserted now
And I am devoid of admirers
I call out, into the darkness
I stamp my feet. This isn’t fair
Am I no longer the Patron Saint
Of Victims Everywhere?
Me: Am I a total cow?
Her: Why, of course, but that is why we love you.
Me: I’m not a fat cow though, am I?
Her: No, of course not. You’re a um skinny cow. A decidedly undernourished cow, if you ask me.
Me: Thank you. I can always rely on you to say the right thing
NOTE: If she’d answered in the affirmative I’d have bitch slapped her into the next millennium.
