I say it straight before I yield
It is my choice how these words are wield
No regard have I for form
This last time I do perform
Hate and love are very close
To them both I have been host
And no emotion do I feel
Than through such words I do conceal
Why do we do the thing s that we do,
And not the things we should?
What a coward inside I surely must be
To avoid that which I could.
The reason there is, is for our own aim
Rarely between us has equalled the same
I tell you this now and I tell you this plain
I should not want what continuing gains
But what is my aim?
As lover? I have miss'd
As friend? I would wish
But it cannot be done
In a place such as this
For there is no form that it could take
Without others us having to break
For those that are mine, do hate you twice
And those you adore, do hate me thrice
Friends? They'll not weather
Lovers? Never!
So I struggle through hoops in the pretend
That you might some day regard me again.
For in your heart could you say
You would run from them one day?
No no, of course and nor could I
And so I ask my own aim 'Why?'
Why do I jump and why do I stray,
From the well-trod path, the lonely way?
Like Cassandra I see the tragedy
But the one who does not believe is me.
So take these words as sign foul or fair
For, honest to god, I no longer care
But I do.