he took my life right out of my hands
remodeled my hopes, redesigned my plans
and I cannot resent him this
because that incompetence is something I will not miss
this rope is woven with intellect
I view it now as impossible to neglect
but with knowledge comes pain
and suddenly all he made me do was in vain
watching him walk away
I lose my position of being his clay
and I'm unable to model myself as I hoped
but with faked vanity I still grip this rope
I just want to understand
to have my apprehension expand
the world presents itself as so dark
that alone has left its mark
I need to weave in this rope myself
because he cast me to the emptiest corner in hell
all this that haunts my mind
the answers I delusively search to find
he only gave me a taste of this insight
and left me with a curiousity I refuse to fight
I need to find out more about me
maybe then I'll make him see
but no matter how many words I said
my modeler never figured out my head
the artist who couldn't make sense of his creation
this rope is here to destroy our relation
so he can move across the nation
and I'll sit here and try to perceive
all the things that drove him to leave