Her Truth Is Not the Truth

She makes up the stories about things of the past, She lies about how things occurred, Happily rewriting stories of how life had played out; History she tries to reword, To make her the one organising the fun, How he would obey as she said, To make her the carrier of the moral high ground, Now others are gone, sick or dead, But what she can’t see, about these little facts, Is that I, too, was there all along, And can vouch for the actual truth of this past, The truth exposing her wrong, The quarrels and defiance, the lack of foresight, The spite to frustrate, to make sad, The hindrances that she’d put up all the time, To stop the fun times that he had.