Read Poetry: Confessions, by Lizardin Bain

You say I’m pretty. You say I’m kind,

But does it ever cross your mind,

That you’re being awfully abusive.

 

Of course, it doesn’t. Why it should?

The nicest words they never could,

Hurt anyone or be intrusive.

 

And people think so, and my brain,

It tries to cope, but all in vain.

My heart prefers to be preclusive.

 

You sing those tunes without a care,

You fail to see that I can’t bear,

The notes that sound to me illusive.

 

I understand that I am flawed,

But all I see is brutish fraud,

Who is as rude as he’s delusive.

 

I do not trust when someone says:

“I fell in love in three short days.”

It’s highly doubtful and allusive.

 

Your words are brining only pain,

They are constricting, like a chain,

And I can hardly take your glee.

 

But you’re urging…