Tinted Glasses

You perceive of me only what you wish to see,

but I’m a human with flaws, like you.

Like him, you’re quick to say, “It’s not me;

it’s you, you’re wrong,” but I can see through

it now; things will play how they must be.

At the end of the day, see, I have my crew.

How many close relationships does he keep?

Tones would change if you knew what I knew.

But you could never be wrong.

I recognize when I’m wrong, I write it down,

take note to make the needed change

and work on it every single day, through the frowns

that come when I’m feeling a little strange.

I’m learning every single day, yet like a clown

you recognize nothing of import, set a stage

to paint me as a villain all the way around.

To think I’d wanted to chalk ignorance up to age.

But you could never be wrong.

If this were a movie, we could flip; we could switch

perspectives, and maybe then you would see

the truth instead of calling me a rude bitch.

 Unfortunately, I can tell when it comes to me,

there’s nothing you want to see but that which

makes you pretty and helps you feel free.

So, then, like a disease, you pull at every last stitch

on my heart, doing your best to unravel me.

But you could never be wrong.

The meaning behind your words is so devoid,

I can practically feel your desperation

to control everything and monitor the noise

coming out of every radio station.

Your eyes glaze over, all you care for are coins,

ears plugged while you make accusations.

Your masks are so thin, it’s no wonder your boys

are so easily discovered, peeled like crustaceans.

But you could never be wrong.

Heaven forbid you see things through the eyes

of any person other than yourself,

but I won’t join in your pity-party or lies

or enable the bullshit to come back off the shelf.

I’m done with you and your slithering spies.

But you could never be wrong.