Fare-thee-Well

My life began from you,
A metaphor yet so true;
And foolish me, I tried,
To shed you off, like a dead leaf.
But last night the cursed itch
Came back again, it hurt again,
Now that I’m going away,
And that you should stay.


And as I looked back, I acquiesced,
It was not the touch of your hand,
Or the glimpse of your sunny face,
That made me smile;
But that you are in my radius,
That you are close by,
Made me earn each breath I breathed.


And you may already be wondering,
(though I surely feel you’re not)
“Why does this boy write alone,
And speaks not a word?”
The answer to this I know not,
But perhaps I am too proud to be loved,
Or am I too frail?
It’s not that I have never judged you,
But always it’s been me I found wanting.


But you know that I write when insane,
And that sanity holds my tongue,
And in madness men speak truth.
In madness I speak the truth.
The insignia that you’ve given me,
I find it hard to rub away,
I never learnt to walk the middle path.
(Always somewhat of a bohemian)
And if I don’t love you babe,
Then I must learn to hate…