Blue In My Shoes

When my sadness comes back around, there's not a lot I can say.
I know you have to hate me. I can tell by your way.
You strike below the belt. I know you think I'm weak.
You would love to watch me crawl, knocked off of my feet.
You receive your pleasure from watching those in pain.
Cold like icy December, striking like a train.
I can't tell you why I feel like I do. Aren't you glad you're not in my shoes?
Blue. I'm just blue.

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