You were a brother to me. But you treat me like number two. You rage to hear the truth. So I soothe you with dumb words. You pat yourself on the back, To you, I’m a second-class citizen. You’ve got your crown and gown– Surrounded by “royal” drunks. Invading your castle and stuff. But I’m the “carpetbagger.” And what did I get? Nothing less than a cold shoulder. I was dying inside. Amnesia sure hit you over the head. Thousands of tears on my soggy shoulders. My ears clocking in hundreds of hours: Listening. And I’m the “carpetbagger?” I snicker now at the absurdity– And your dirty feet walking in my thoughts. But I’ve cleared the weeds. I urge you to sit with a mirror in hand. Maybe you’ll learn something. I sure did.