I question myself of my capabilities and problems I face,
Maybe I've gone insane but I really feel that I might,
Be on the verge of doing the wrong instead of the right.
There's no reason to pounce on this new discovered story,
If it is something perpetual then there's no need to worry,
But the guilt for something I've done nestles deeper everyday,
And i'm concerned about the price of riddance to pay.
Though the winds are for and not against my little acts,
Reality will surely kick back with the facts,
Listen to the story and maybe i'm innocent but see closely,
I harbor over a friend, wield my tactics over him fiercely.
The root of this oak tree is that its betraying,
And my weakness: the wrong people I keep on trusting,
Sad to say, always the right people I keep on doubting,
Aren't I confused much? That's why I end up hurting.
Wish there's an end to all this, but its unnecessary to opine.
I see him happy, yet losing himself slowly; my thoughts intertwine,
to know what I'd been and what I've turned into by full
Someone he wouldn't be proud of, as to everyone I''m unfaithful.
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