How did I mess this up?

One day, I’m the star.
The next day, I’m lost again.

Why is it that when I start to get happy again,
I figure a way to destroy all my chances.

Why is it, that when the evil do bad,
we all shrug it off?
But when the good, no-
the angels in life,
make a mistake,
it’s the only thing people can remember?

Not the good.
Not the work they’ve done.
Nothing.
All to waste,
for one breath of one mistake.

I dread walking in that first day,
white shirts, blue shorts,
friends, colleagues, staff,
as they all stare at me,
and wonder how,
the person they all looked up to,
admired,
trusted,
made a mistake.

Speak to me of pain.
Speak to me of sorrow.
And I shall tell you the story
of a girl who made a mistake.

Take a seat my friends,
at this old bar together,
gather ‘round,
drink cheap wine with me,
as you listen to my story,
of an angel,
who simply got the short end of the stick.