Tryst

Abstraction. 

Deception, with pretense of honor.

Time heals all wounds - why bother to restore them?

Why, why, why? That is all I can ask myself.

Forgetting your past is the surest way to failure.

One may think they've escaped scrutiny,

Only to find themselves lain completely bare

To those who know them best.

Linguistic roses, cultivated with the utmost attention,

Left to their own devices shed thorns -

The likes of which have never been seen

In the waking world.

Words are born of intentions,

Intentions born of flimsy need,

Need that is born of desire and time.

Never forget. I can see what you cannot.

When actions are born of your words,

Nourished by your intent, fueled by your need,

I will no longer be there to protect you.

Stand.

Stand on your own two feet as I watch you destroy yourself.