And what say you
the perpetrator of my appeasing pledge,
your demands my buckled legs in fold,
and you in command, demanding reproach,
conciliation and my swearing oath,
that not again shall I cross your intent,
not again take leave of senses bold.
Yet what path do I walk but mine,
and not you the barer of my fate,
the holder of my dreams innate,
crossing you was never my intent,
and perhaps you walked into me, and now vent,
for blame you choose and you excused,
leaves me to cop the hate.
Did I miss something,
some finely crafted text to inspire my change of mind,
my character so maligned,
sweet talk was never your motive, your way,
just the sting of clarity, viewed and espoused to say,
and me the brunt of your opinion,
upholding your dominion.
Now let me think,
am I but your servant, allowed
to be, only if I wear your shroud, fashioned as you,
regardless of my wants too,
never to be considered just dismissed,
and I remiss for not knowing,
the seeds that you were sewing.
So yes, I pledge never to cross your path again,
for I will be gone, and your shroud your own, alone,
not for the want of me, your cursed life,
and bliss you will find, without me on your mind,
and we may both bask in the singularity of our wants,
unopposed and no hunt for blame,
just the memory of a servant you tried to train.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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