you think it's over but the
nightmare has only begun.
each day you're a bit closer
to your failing moment[um]
picking up speed and you can't
slow down your ride to success;
because you have never done
anything right and your faults
show up as bruises and scars,
permanently, mocking you
and your misfortunes over
and over again like the
giant cycle of utter
disappointment. and i've let
you down again, i feel bad
again. you like to laugh and
tell me how stupid i am
or how childish i've become,
or how stubborn i can be.
then you're going to tell me
that i am obligated
to accept your point-of-view;
i know that rant is coming
and on its convenient
way to hiss at my ears and
i know you will get your way--
you always have. so it is
peculiar when you must
mention and degrade my flaws.
you are just as stubborn as
i am, as childish as i
ever was, as stupid as
i ever will be. don't you
get it, numbskull? we are but
same in mentality. if
you must have it your way, so
be it. but you're wrong if you
thought i'd quietly accept
your opinions. no, you won't
walk away so easily
this time around; i'm going
to put up a fight you won't
soon forget, nor ever will.
(c)2004 mai kozai
silence is also music. {3:45 AM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
