Maybe
Maybe it is not my place to pass judgment; to wield an iron fist and slam it down for the law. Maybe it is not my place to say that this world is messed up and it needs order; to play a housewife and tidy the area. Maybe I am in the wrong; to be a blind preacher who can see God. Maybe, I don’t know; to listen but not to hear. Maybe, I can’t see the obvious; to fish in a empty lake. Maybe, I am heartless; I can’t feel the heat and only the ice.
But it is my place, my right, my knowledge, my senses, that tell me you are wrong.
I pass judgment with an iron first so I can focus. Not to destroy you.
The world is messed up and it does need order, all I know is what it should be in my image, so I create it in such. Not to defy you.
I am right. Because I was here, watching. You were there, experiencing. So, I can tell you what happened after you return. Not to upset you.
I do know. I’ve been through it many times; so I tried to protect you. Not to cage you.
I do see the obvious. It is you who cannot. So I tried to give you my eyes so that you would understand. Not to fight with you.
I am not heartless. I claimed to be so to tell you it bluntly, the only way I knew how. Not to hurt you.
And through this, you never asked me how I felt. You always just assumed. You never sat me down and asked my opinion. You never asked me what I wanted because of your selfishness. You never told the truth even though I told you it. And the only reason I stayed, the only reason I put up with all of this? I love you.
