My Fault
Your influence and attitude
intense at best rude
nasty blunt unflattering
unaware without a clue
Treat me a slave or possession
each day this way progressing
heated behaviour with aggression
giving orders I must press on
As though you’ve power and control
you walk in front behind I stroll
words you speak always cold
stare expecting eyes scold
A gradual change unwinds
I’m different over time
you question why
I say goodbye
And you tell people I changed
became someone strange
different and deranged
now keeping long range
Always blaming others
factually never you
went from being brothers
to someone I once knew
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2019
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