You desired me
to understand,
wanted me to
be a friend.

You turn your back,
overlook the drowning hand.
You wanted revenge,
you wanted it
to be an end.

Begging to believe,
you got the best of me.
I was the change,
you moved forward
but still stuck in same.

To be victor,
you long for
the moment to leave
the final lasting mark.
The kind to
illuminate in the dark.

You get what you get,
that's a funny saying.
Who will give you
what you give,
if what you give is outlash
from the payback
of what you got
from what you gave?

You're sitting high and mighty,
up above in that head.
What'll happen when
you're the one left for dead?