Now I've been told that I'm an enabler, which I'm sure is true.
I like to get people to like me by doing what they ask me to do.
Some call me the fairy godmother, others the wicked witch;
It depends on their perspective, and how I scratch their itch.
I don't build up to a crescendo; I'm here and then I'm gone;
The changes I leave in my wake leave some feeling quite forlorn.
So, I've decided that a little of me time goes a very long way
I usually get into trouble when I'm tempted to stay.
I'm like a walking meth lab, and apparently as dangerous
Explosions happen all around me and I cannot hear the fuss.
Until the toxic waste of these bombs chases all away,
And I'm left with nobody with whom I can play.
So I hide in my room because I don't want anyone hurt,
But when bullies enter the playground, my passions start to perk.
I usually come out flailing to protect the weak
And when the fighting's over, I'm told to take a seat.
The disciplinarians see me as big and strong;
The bullies act so meek, it looks like I am wrong.
But all I want is to make sure that the babies aren't harmed
I didn't know that I could cause such wounds without being armed.
I guess there is a reason they say the pen is mightier than the sword.
Whether spoken or written, it seems the mightiest weapons are words.
I am trying to sit back and stop fighting the battles of others;
I have to keep reminding myself I am not the whole earth's mother.