Just Call Me Eddie

(This was written in an English class, whilst studying Blood Brothers by Willy Russell - that fact is relevant, honest)

I sit and write an essay, snigger at the irony,
An essay on a love triangle, between two best friends,
A fierce woman, and the animosity it ends in.

I snigger at the hypocrisy, of me putting in my two cents.
Calling a character called Eddie a selfless twat,
And me fiercely adamant, I'd never do the same.

I call Mickey selfish, say that they should both have stayed away
From a woman that would only end in tears.
A woman that caused two friends, so close, to drift apart.

And I never thought I'd identify so readily,
With a fictional posh boy from a private school, with a mother
Who's a headcase.

Just call me Eddie, I recognised the love they had.
And now they're an item, and I'm so happy for my friends.
But that doesn't mean I want to see it every day.

Just call me Eddie, I gave them the way,
To carve their own lives out together,
A psychological self-harmer, acting like the victim.

Just call me Eddie, I knew she never loved me,
Knew she never could, knew that it was always them meant to be.
But that didn't stop me confessing my love.

Just call me Eddie, and say it's my fault.
For not getting there first, I had plenty of time.
A year and a half, and the moment never seemed ready.

I didn't get my girl, so just call me Eddie.