The Pretense of Friendship

A spring forbodes hope after winter, many say But is there truth to this? My mind asks this question. I find no hope in my life, in my years or days, Never is there an encouraging turn; a revolution. You became my friend—that much many saw, But were you really? Was our friendship actually true? Nay, not so—but I concealed it with no flaw— That of this state of friendship, I held pretense with you. Was it deliberate that I approached you? Yes, it was purposive—yet by no means my decision. And this pretense made me not blue, For I'd too often held up façades to precision. But one day—what?! You knew all along?! You knew it was true—that to you, I was no friend at all?! Unbelieveable, I know so, but this is where I belong. Manipulated and tripped by others only to forever fall. Also—what? You can, through me, see?! Through my guarded façade, you saw what did lay Behind my walls?! You saw right through me?! I know—a monster, you see. Depart from me, do go away. And—what, sayeth you?! Why?! Why would you try And give me joy when I took great advantage of your own?! Please! You've seen enough, you know I do cry. Now go—leave me be. Depart from here, and leave me alone. But why would you—I told you I refuse! I am one who never is open to the subject of change! But I—how right you are—I've nothing to lose. But how do you understand me—it is wonderful, yet strange. Months later—thank you for trying so! I'm a new one—I am!—and all this I owe to you. I look to the sky and smile, for now I know, With you, I am ever joyful—with you, I'll never be blue.