THE HURTING.

You say you thought you’d changed me
And so to become one of your own
But indignant in realisation
I was still the same after all
Myself, what I’ve always wanted to be
Beholding to no-one and barely a product
Making headway as I only know how.

I can give over part of myself
To furnish your life with friendship
But sublimation is too high a cost
One I cannot bare for anyone
Born to be, me I must be.

The talk moves on to anger
And we drift further apart
Not understanding the others reasons
Nor sharing the hopes and fears.

We are two people never alike
Forced by circumstance to share a roof
But not a life as well
Or are we.

I wonder sometimes if this is all
That comes when it goes beyond
That point on the horizons where hope came in
Contentment is a niche carved like a glove
And though we don’t stay there long
We always know just where to go.

A token gesture trying hard to give in
Rebuffed because it seeks not to surrender
One life to another, now that’s being sh***ed on.

Don’t talk of anger, of it not being fair
When each has to make his way
We can only give over part of existence
To be manipulated by the individual
There must be a part left whole to seek
What curls the toes in firelight
What reeks of sentimental circumstance.

Now angers flared its far too late to excuse
The hatred in the heart, what is wanted of this soul
I cannot give what I don’t have.

GRUM