the ungrateful one
ungrateful, yes, that's me
for yesterday, roses you brought
and kissed my cheek
and all I think of is the day I will leave
your gift of roses means little if nothing to me.
the day before when I angered at your old ways
and wanted to fight, you declined,
and apologized in the name of peace
and I think you must do it on pupose,
devious to the end
you touch me here, and caress me there
and wait for me to come round
but the hate you planted yesterday
has a death grip on me.
my passion has in fled in fear.
it is not that I can't go on
it is not that I can't forgive
your control and your anger
suffocated my love
and now it is too late.
to reach for a bit of sunshine
I will be
labeled ungrateful, for all to see