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May 2013
We created a world of false accusation
Love soon became only partial remission
You took my freewill, as well as my vision
In return I gave my utmost provision
Of hasty provocation
And less than mindful incision
Into your every thought, and each passing decision
I often sat down, but for once I had risen
Asked, "Why are we crawling on the floors of this prison?"

Could not stand one more night under your supervision
There was no longer room for revise and revision
And life doesn't offer any hefty commission
For complying to someone - always asking permission

Our twisted sheets became more like a distasteful collision
Fingers tense as they ached for division
While nails dug deep with careful precision
Yes, sometimes we held hands
And sometimes we held our tongues
Gone quiet with desperate premonition
Lydia Ann
Written by
Lydia Ann
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