Being Used EM Whitman

 Got what I need to give a helping hand,

Then you came to me with a confident stand, 

You asked to borrow a wrench,

What you did with it put me in the trench,

The use of my tool broke me and left me feeling lonely,

You used me for selfish things, would you call that friendly?

I don’t mind helping; it’s the use of what I had that made me feel violated.

 

You say you need help for a good deed,

I ask ecstatic, “What do you need?!”

“Glue to hold something I love together.” She sounded broken and sad

I gave her the bottle, knowing she would do just that.

She glues her possession together, it looks almost new.

This time I didn’t feel so blue.

I don’t mind helping; it’s the use of what I had that made me feel joy.

 

Some people care about what they say,

They think to themselves, “Will I lead them astray?”

Others don’t even think about the people being deceived.

The ones who we thought were kind, their acting we believed.

You have a choice, you can lie and get high on momentary pleasure,

Or speak life into others, be kindhearted, and look toward a good future.

I don’t mind helping; it’s the use of what I have that truly matters.