Am I the Wrong?

The talk of flowers to win your favor,

but you have decided you don't like my flavor.

My taste a hair too wild and eyes too crazy,

My thoughts not to witty

with careless words left hanging.

You can pretend I am nothing,

I dare you to hide Me,

but you could never take back those words you gave to Me.

My fondness has caught me in a Never-wheel

where the rotten could-bees roam;

my mind has left me to wonder, Should I Change?,

for any difference (good in nature, or of the bad)

would be for the better.

In the Here and Now I am powdered in the aftermath of Desire's Dust,

hanging from the cliff of the only heaven I knew;

what madness lead me to believe that was you.

Which madness will prove Fatal?

look lasting a length too long,

a touch two-beats treated,

or a wicked word of my own creation gone out to destroy me?

While pondering poisons, I consider, am I the Wrong?

The One, the Right begun to lessen,

my own opinion, my feelings,

are the Falsehoods of Pretension.

All by a Joke taken to literal,

By Me.