Away from our troubles two fates tarry;
but which will rise and finally gain sway?
It’s the levels of the wreckage against our resilience,
it’s been this way since Adam was clay.
I wait with patience at this fork in the road,
for unequal yokes will only bring disaster,
there must be grace, and one true spirit,
or ruin will become our master.
But then you don’t listen to what I’m saying
there’s something wrong in the way you hear,
it’s past the point of benign obstruction,
the damage chokes all that was clear.
What is it that makes me into a liar
when to you I only speak the truth?
You say you know what I really mean
as I plead with you – give me some proof?
I have never wanted that much of you
other than your trust and respect,
but as they fall away through disbelief
our talk becomes a growing ferment.
From the bottom of our rubble I feel for you,
for I know the truth of your bluffing,
with malice for many, and charity for few,
you remember everything and forgive nothing.
When you occasionally let down your guard
you show this needn’t be the end,
but thirty seconds of unplanned honesty
gets drowned by decades of pretend.
Let others with opinions expose their characters
and have them dissected for good or bad,
let every word, inflection, or deed
be micro-managed till it turns them mad.
That you are unhappy is not my fault
the vexing’s from inside you,
but as you thrash about for a scapegoat,
finding fault is so easy to do.
I have given and taken all I possibly can,
we both came with naught on arrival.
In return my reward has been gossip and judgment
and an emptiness that has no rival.
I may not have done all that could be done,
but I did everything I was able to do.
The problem’s not my limits, but a heavy standard
that’s from a place only known to you.
Now I can’t see any future for us,
For my honour you have never known.
It’s out of my hands, I’ve nothing left,
apart from this love that you used to own.
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