Two-Way Street

Tell me, my friend, what it’s like being me

Have I forgotten what I had chosen to be?

Perhaps–outside, looking in–you know better than me

Maybe I’m the one who cannot see?

Tell me, my friend, how does life look through my eyes?

Does the vision you have speak as clearly as mine?

Maybe I should step away and give you my mind

and see what it makes of these visions I find

Tell me, good friend, are these things just for you?

The things that you claim– never given to you.

Taking my decisions, my thoughts and my will

and making them yours; suiting up for the kill

Tell me, buddy, if you were my brother

would we carry the burdens and care for each other?

What is the motive behind your bad act?

It drains me to see how you’re okay with that

Who are you my friend; good buddy, good pal

to sit there and tell me how I should be now?

I thought you were looking through these eyes that I have

but I think you were blinded by the victory you’d planned

You are only self-centered, conniving and fake

You gave me a little, but I’ve seen what you take

Not very real… in fact, you’re a snake

that lies in the grass, and lies to a face

Now tell me, good friend, what shall I do

with people who are phoney– people like you?

Save it, old friend, you’ve shown your true self

Time was revealing and I value my health

You can go down the road…I wish you best

I’ll be less attached to the one who comes next

Peace be with you, sir, and be safe out there

while toying with people who may show you they care

2 thoughts on “Two-Way Street

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