This is not what I choose to feel,
When all I did was hold you dear;
I’m now hurt with no hope to heal
And instead of love, I taste fear.
The days of happiness die fast,
The tangled moments have no respite,
What will, eventually, last
Is gathered pain, after each fight.
I find that I must cringe and rue
The pain of life, the loss of love,
Who must I relegate blame to:
A devil below, a god above?
But I walked with open eyes,
Thinking this is what should be done
To hold joy before it wilts and dies,
To gather flowers under the sun.
If the skies greyed and storms began,
What matter who merits the blame;
All that counts is I was my own man,
Who held to each rule of this game.