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Don’t tell me who I am

You call me a doormat

I know I am but

I don’t need you telling me that

Do I?

I don’t know

I guess it’s the feeling of being needed

It’s so nice to be needed

So to me, it’s not really a big deal.

I don’t know

I’m not a total doormat

I say “no” to some stuff

You call me weak

It kind of hurts

So I turn up the music

And block the world out with my headphones

I don’t like being told who I am

So I raise my middle finger at you

Even though you’re right

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