And that place is on the floor.
And that place is with this big black boot on your face, crushing the life out of you slowly. It would be a shame, really, to rush it.
And if you get up, oh, how sweet the taste of the pleasure of kicking you right back down again. It's a calling, this. It's an art.
You have no worth, no purpose, no meaning, other than this. You're nothing. Nobody. Just another diversion. Your best is not even worth wiping up. Stay down or we'll make you stay down. And we'll enjoy it....
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How did I forget these lessons? How did I forget how these eyes see me? It took me so long to learn them. I have all the scars -flat, shiny, well-healed, now- that should constantly remind me that I need to run. Maybe I'm too much like my pit bull; maybe my pain tolerance is just too damn high. Maybe I'm a fool. I don't know. All I know is that right now I'm angry and hurting....and trying so hard not to stay down.
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And then you said.....