Demoted

My place is untenable.

I never know

Onto which side I will fall.

Mostly,

I am with top.

But occasionally,

I will be

Gently

Demoted.

It doesn't matter to me

How gently it is done.

I don't care

How nice they are,

Or for what reasons they do it,

I just know,

That I am slowly

Declining.

They say:

"It's for the best,"

Or

"It will help the outcome."

But I don't listen.

My place in this line

Changes too often

For my liking.

I must move up,

I must secure a spot

In the line

That is not changed.

Because every time it is,

I feel depressed,

And demoted.