i made you live,
i'd killed you;
i'd been there.
i'd done that,
but you showed no remorse for your own accordance with my accolades.
and yet you've taken my own words against your own for disservice,
distance has been created from the anguished laugh you'd let out for a trembling break of the silence.
and as it broke down, realistically, you'd thought of what you'd learned from me,
and at last, i was used in reference, as in silence i brooded at your demeanor;
it was transparent and openly so; undistinguishable from the rest in its cleft.
this phenomena's gone on far longer than expected, and you've outlived your expectancy.
so, again, i'd killed you.
then i made you live.
and i'd been there;
you'd never done that.