Difficult

I never knew where to step
Egg shells and broken glass
The mine field is out of mind at least
As if it weren't enough.
I don't know what you want from me.
You don't know what you need from yourself
A few steps in a direction of production perhaps?
Maybe a turn out of the melancholy.
Self inflicted tears can grease the quick descent into oblivion.
But who wants to be proactive?
The glances of pity are far more rewarding.
An ounce of work is just that,
Work.
No one has time for that.
Let the world be handed to me begrudgingly,
By the trick of emotional terrorism.
In the end you still have the world,
Who cares the means by which you gain it.
Respect and worth are overrated anyway.