Retaliation

Did I piss you off with that offering my by brutality…I can be that which you thought I was not…and knowing myself to know you is all you could really see or were you walking as a blind man…
No, not calling you our of your name- but a vocation of what I was seeing- peering into the windows of my sold soul…I was trying to do too much

How can the bullshit you place in prose relegate me in your life- when you seem so eager for me to be around…I love you and that utterance of fact now sickens my stomach to offer remorse to the thought of the you in we….

Nasty how I can turn around that which I have learned and you being the successor have not played the game all too well…oh, I’m sorry it was me!
It seems that you were playing Halo and I was on Monopoly thinking you were even on the board…why fight when peace was all that was needed or was it just a piece…

I have deigned to be there, but when I offer the possibility of the latter, you retaliate…why?
Or are you really a prose that simple…

You come off as an aberration that overrates himself to a position higher that it appears…although you may not be talking to me- How can you conclude that this prose, in its simplicity, includes everything about you.

However irrational this may be my venting of the situation of thought came about from years past- but in all my talking you hear nothing but what you feel is necessary for thought of you to strike…

I know that once pen hits the paper there is no recourse and although it may seem well or well off…I truly was the one that is truly the aberration, after all.