I don't know unless you tell me.
Stop yelling.
I don't know.
I'm sorry, I don't know.
I can't tell you.
I'm not difficult.
Stop it, I don't know.
I don't understand.
Why won't you tell me.
What did I do.
Stop yelling.
I can't help it.
I don't know
I didn't yell.
I'm not fighting.
How am I fighting.
I'm scared.
Please tell me what I did.
Please, I'll fix it.
Just tell me.
I don't know what I did.
Why are you angry.
I'm not angry.
Don't yell at me
Go away.
I don't understand.
You're not telling me.
I'm sorry.
I shouldn't argue.
No, I don't know.
I told you that.
I don't understand.
Why are you yelling?

Please, I love her more than freedom,
and I want her to be free.
Please, I'd sell my soul a thousand times,
to drive her far from me.

But she'll starve by twisted morals,
may pain keep at bay the dread!
And I want her to be happy,
in a world that wants her dead.

I can't help her. I can't save her.
I can't stop her. I can't run.
If she finds her way to nothing,
then I won't have anyone.

"Well, I know it's not important"*
and I know I shouldn't dare.

I'm so ******* egocentric,
"Not your problem, you don't care."

On the days I thought you liked me,
"I'm a bother, I'll just go,"

"I'll just leave right now, I'm sorry,"
I just wondered-I don't know.

My pretensions are my problem,
"I'm so sorry, I'm so wrong."

"But I thought maybe you liked me?"
I thought maybe. Not for long.

"Because no one ever liked me,"
That was justice, that was right.

And my selfish fears are showing,
*"So I'm sorry. Love you. Night."

My penance,
I'm lonely,
I'm tired,
I'm sick.

My heart is
too weak and
too hungry
to tick.

I've found no
great gods, or
great men, or
such things.

Man's angels
are crippled,
I've seen their
dull wings.

My savior's
a fool, who
can run, but
not see.

I'd guess that
she's blind, and
I pray she's
not me.

I'll stumble
I'll wonder,
In hell, I'll
rejoice.

And pray that
I live to
regret each
mad choice.

It's hell where
we're going,
its hell where
we've been.

Lets pray we
Don't choose to
be lonely
again.

The words are coming wrong, my heart is breaking, broken, commas and conundrums pester me.
And so my **** expressive heart and soul break fingers left and right.
And what I say is nonsense in my head, so **** the page!
My punctuation scatters, splatters, counting feet abandoned.
In abandoning my feet,
The rules are not abided, and we're crossing lines, and wells,
And maybe truth is here, but concepts in the wind, not gathered thoughts.
What can I say in words, except goodbye to form and thought and ordered order. Pictures, rules, and grammar.
Counting feet has brought me far,
The blacker blasphemy of free association broke the hand between my head, and pretty words for me to read.
So take away my drivel, take it, free me of the words without a sense, the words are come wrong.
So counting feet. My broken heart. I have just all to say, but I can't say without a passion or a crime, for sure what I could not mistake. First blush, first kiss, and never yet again we find a way and feint again each other, senseless, and we'll fall and split alone, and time again.

I swear you're free to wander,
You have no debt to me.
I only hope you wander,
Alive and well and free.