Knowing entrapment brings, an appreciation, of release
That’s why freed birds will, one day, sing, again.
But, unfortunately, it depends ~
There is no such thing
Someone will always insist, they’re right
Giving into their ego is futile
Giving into God is another
Surrendering is a fine line
The victim secretly likes the role
The lights come on inside
Then, they make great domineers
They’ve learned well
The controller preaches down a throat
They curse them, deep inside a soul
Sweet vengeance, on the unassuming, the innocent
They thought, it sweet
After all, they looked at only the book cover
The illustration captured the eye
They didn’t read the fine print
And this is love
That you would hold my hand, as I yours
That you not tell me what to do, or say, and I promise the same
That you would like me whether skinny or fat
That you would laugh, and not growl
That would not lie
That you would not lean on me because you are weak
You married me so I would carry you
Sometimes we are intimidated by life, but ~
I can’t support your weight, all the time
I am not God
Kick or whip an animal, and I will ask you to leave, and never come back. You killed, my dog. And, honestly, I hate you. I can’t get over it.
Night terrors from your insanity haunt me.
Once you looked at me
Utter fear ran through my bones
I’ve never seen that look before, except on murderers
I was scared to death
Love is an exercise
It is a practice that’s eternal
It is unattainable, nor perfected on Earth
It is the greatest commandment
Many think they’ve arrived
I’m cynical that arriving is possible.
Please, don’t come to visit me, if I’m ill, because it’s your duty
Come, because you love me and deeply want to see me
That is love
After all, in my weakness, I shall not want to distress you, one bit.
So go home, go away
I want you to know
That in the deepest parts of dreaming
You are there
I want to tell you, but I can’t
When you were traveling
When you were far away in thought
When you were sad
And when you chuckled
I saw you
I loved you
But, now it’s too late
Oh, and by the way, did you tell your new bride she was number four, like you told me, when I was actually nine or ten?
I just wonder sometimes…
Sometimes, there is a need to sympathize with your “girlfriends,” as you called them, but now I empathize.
Ironically, you always said, “I hate liars.”
And, I believed you! You had me fooled.
What a joke. You’re a joke. You’re a liar.
Tolerance, I’m weird… No apology ~ Just, am
But, you are too