As you slowly walk away my anger wanes.
Beneath my furrowed brow a lone tear falls.
Could it be true that anger's born in pain?
Does truth cut with precision when it calls?
I'd follow and I'd beg but for these walls.
I'd follow and I'd beg but for these walls--
just turn and speak in kindness ... give me room.
Kneeling's not beneath me, love enthralls
(like I could simply step out of this gloom).
This jealousy, my blindness, seals my doom.
This jealousy, my blindness, seals my doom--
usurping sense and branding me a fool.
Visions of my blackened soul exhumed
would frighten the most twisted hell-born ghoul.
How did such blossoms bloom within this tomb?
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Author Notes
To be smothered and controlled by someone possessive and jealous is a horrible experience. Remember, it isn't you ... it's them.
I'm delighted that my wife lights up a room when she enters it. Go ahead and look. Hahaha. Jealous? Nah, she's gone home with me for thirty years. :)
This resembles some kind of form, but I don't think it actually is one. :)
I didn't count or tap, but I think it's mostly iambic with maybe a trochaic here and there because of the ABC...
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