The Pure, Simple, Truth.

Confusion.

Confusion.

I lay here alone,

Realising that nothing can be done,

I feel the shadows begin to creep in,

Gone is the sun.

There’s only so much,

One can say,

to explain the emotions that ride within,

I’m trying to find the light within the storm but my hope is still an area of gray.

Even as a writer,

I lack an explanation,

Even with words as my weapon,

I lack the courage to raise the slightest level of confrontation.

I lack the knowledge,

To put my thoughts into words,

And without somewhere for them to land,

They’ll roam the air in a similar way to birds.

My eyes can wonder,

And search amongst the dark,

But they lack the ability to see a clear end,

To find even a glimpse of the finishing mark.

The words of explanation,

Are stuck in my throat,

To the feeling of happiness,

In this moment I appear unable to devote.

Pinned to my lips,

are lies to hide the truth,

To guarantee absolute happiness,

nobody has any form of proof.

Honesty is believed to be the best policy,

But if it prolongs confusion and pain,

Then what is the reason,

for playing the game?

Now following my every footstep,

is the near uncovered full version of the tale,

And I’ve got a limited selection of options,

To use in order to countervail.

Caught up in confusion,

Left with decisions to make,

I swear mentally to myself,

That I will not become a slave to my sharp, addictive ex-lover, I will not let it decide my fate.