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.