This isn't about me.

This poem isn't about me. It's about you. Before you fall on the defensive, then I can't really help you.

you,
and your broken heart,
broken soul and twisted mind.
crying eyes,
fake smiles you hide behind.

you,
are not the same.
you,
are not to blame. See
you,
you have been framed.

You don't like what you do but you do it anyway.
You don't plan on betrayal but it happens...
You have all this in love in you,
You can't see the definitive line in between love and hate though.
You've lost it. Completely.

This poem isn't about me.
It's about you.
the endless list of things you fear in this world,
the countless minutes you've spent thinking. Just thinking.
the continuous struggle of your soul and your mind... you alternate who wins, all the time.
the lack of hope you have left in you.
It's all about you.

You hold the future in your hands but you fear a life with any sans...
Sans love, sans drama, sans happiness, sans sadness.
Sans everything that makes a human being something living.
Sans the you you've become too familiar with,
Sans the you you've come to terms with..
Sans acceptance of the almost impossible.
Sans exceptions to the rules..
Sans the you you think is you.

This poem isn't about me.
It's about you.
See by being about you,
You cannot ignore me..
Me as the conundrum in you.
You cannot deny me,
Me all the things you know you need, that I have.
You cannot erase me truly,
Me is a permanent marker.
You have "sharpied" me into your skin,
You.
you have let the ink from my needle point pen pinch
You.
you cannot give in..

You are not a coward,
You have not lost...
You've only reached a point where you contemplate some loss..
You are not behind... Only too far ahead..
You may end up alone, but maybe
You need to...

You are no more a victim than the cause of your angst... but you will be fine.. You have said your goodbyes, as have I... but goodbyes are for the lost.. and You, you are not lost.