My Crowd

I'm am last to be picked,
The one that is ignore
The one you talk down to for sport,
I am the one you can depend on,
The one you call on when life is harsh,
The one you thank, then later scorn.
I am the factor you wish were gone,
The hated, the one you make faces at.
The one you would like to see in pain,
I am the one who risk his neck, not for a check,
But because it against my natural being to leave
You when it rains.
I am the back you love to stab,
The mat you love to stand on,
The path you love to cross,
The drag you love to bag on,
The secret you wish to expose,
The man you wish to shame,
The image that grinds your teeth,
The force of your restraint,
The hand, The hand that's held out
To you every time you fall,
The warmth of knowing some one cares,
I am the reason you pretend to like me,
The reason you hate the way that I give,
I am the inspiration for your repayment,
The one who refuses to take it,
The embodiment of something money can't
Win.
To my siblings I am a loyal brother,
To my mother I am the loving son,
To my friend I am the only one,
And to the crowd I am oxygen,
Something you see as nothing
Until your out of breath.