In the company of men
Willingly entered into a contract spelling out the terms of my demise. Not a physical demise, or not yet anyways. Suppose your spirit and strength and beautiful individuality is contained in a barrel. The current situation is putting enormous pressure on the barrel, forcing it's bloated belly inwards upon itself, much of it's valuable contents spilling out over the top, leaking through cracks in the sides. The possibility of losing my inner child has become very real, being either suffocated or harangued and harassed to death. I've never been stoned (the punishment, not the high) but imagine the constant verbal assault to have a similar effect on my spirit.
Who could love me now? Who would have me?
Who could love me now? Who would have me?