Twelve

Love was a lie,
‘twas the first lie I knew,
Though I was a child,
Oh, how my love grew.
And like a child I did love,
And like a child I did break,
A victim, how I sought sorrow,
Fucked by what I thought to take.

A gift, the relationship, to share,
Oh, what a burden,
our love was to bare.
Spoiled and foiled by the hands,
Oh, our own?
So we acted, no precautions,
Towards the baffling unknown.

Yes, face first,
I understood, I would fall,
But still I played victim,
And was caught, my whole haul.
And a distance it was,
That I was daring to plunge,
But I was rescued, a savior,
And my soul was expunged.

For it was our love,
that was like punishment,
And we, like masochists,
sought such chastisement,
But not like a child did I act then,
No, I understand exactly what I was doing.

Ha, how funny that a lie,
Was the first thing I told,
‘twas the lie that made you love me,
And you still don’t even know.
And it’s sad, I must confess,
That I still cannot trust you,
But if a lie is so bold,
Bold enough to block a clear view—
like I learned as a child, love is a lie,
and though I have writhed,
in lies I confide—so, what is there to do,
When I do not depend on you,
And a lie is the only part of me you are into?