Target

I feel like I've got a target painted on my back,
and the God of Misery is aiming for me.
I feel like all I've experienced so far,
is a punishment for what's to come.

I feel like a target is painted on my back,
and my misery is just an arrow,
while my pain is just a shotgun.
I hope it is.

I feel like I've got a target painted on my back,
and everyone is aiming,
with arrows made of silent cries,
and pain.

Because that would explain why it's always me,
why the misery isn't divided.
That would explain why everyone is free,
while here I am, staying silent.

I feel like that target is disappearing,
but of course, then someone hits.
It's right in the middle, my cries are heard
by no one but myself.

My silent cries and neverending tears,
are always omnipresent.
And just when I think the target is gone,
another arrow hits.