I heave apology.
I camouflage the prodigiousness of my personalized abstract.
In agonized affliction, I am keeled over, disfigured by your indignant covetousness.
Entertaining your critical projections, I sense the judgemental undertones.
The fraudulence in your compassion.
The spite in your congratulatory flattery.
Continually proscribing your singular vision,
Ineptly detecting the uphill battle I face,
You crave my haves, you desire my wants.
Succinctly pouncing upon my esteemed goal, obliterating the positive eventuality I had hoped for.
A single tear free falls.
You reach out,
You hold it firmly in your malevolent grasp.
Ignorant of the well oiled detriment buried deep in the root of my soul.
Neglectful of your role in this drama.
This is not a novelty coaxing you, a bauble awaiting theft.
These are my emotions.
My vision for life.
They are not to be high jacked,
Used in order to make a mockery of me.
How dare you superimpose your inadequacies on my reality.
Yes, your disappointments are tragic, but they are yours to confront.
My allegory will not reset their parameters.
The characters will remain in tact, the script with its original penmanship will breathe the same life into your narrative.
Irreverent of the outcome you fancy.
Grant to me the unadulterated honesty of your disposition.
So that when I hear your words, I recognize the person I thought I knew.
I know that you are hurting.
Appreciate that I am as well.
When you finally trip into your future, its reality is alarming.
The plausibility of happiness, unnerving.
I see me, shrinking modestly so as to avoid the surefire power I hold within.
I recognize him, a finely sculpted vision of my forthcoming subsistence.
I contemplate you.
You with all your judgement.
Your facetiousness masquerading as concern.
Dangerously, the diagnostic conclusions flow freely.
From your mind to mouth.
From our conversation to my subconscious.
Penetrating, extending in time and over space, I willfully become my own buried critic.
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