12 October, 2014

Pick the Door?

Pick the Door?

Can't we take this hurricane outside please?
It has been an earthquake, slowly, but surely. 
The slow motion landslide builds momentum. 
Soon enough we'll both be buried, or is it me. 
I'll carry forth the rain, you'll take the thunder.
Is as it always was, only bent by apocalypse. 

Which one of us becomes puppet for today?
In truth it is both, always both, don't you see?
No, my work was too clear, much too precise. 
Now I'm to pay king's ransom for my sanities.  
No good deed to go unrewarded; my cell, sir. 
I've no need for keys, no point to the leaves. 

Might hand me a shovel, best to dig my own. 
Less confusion of intentions, of machinations. 
I know of love and loyalty, perhaps more so. 
You want to make it be me anyway, oh runner. 
I've given you all, still you'd have me a villain. 
I'll not oblige you, let me see your dirty hands. 

Your loyalties were always tarnished and yet,
You still wanted to hold this platform with me. 
I begged you, pleaded you to run than abuse. 
Was it a lie? Was it cowardice?  Deflections?
Is this really all its worth?  Ask me yesterday,
I'd have defended you to the death; disbelief! 

I have no faith left to spare, having stolen all. 
You've made sure of it, my choices are clear
and clearly you; unaccepting of the evidence. 
You would force my hands to save your sleep. 
I'll have none of it, promises broken for both. 
If a push is all you have; rather I would swing.  


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