#Day 862: Illegal Promises

I swore to myself last month;
That there would be nothing like this,
Nothing like the feeling of being irrelevant,
Or like the vacant possession of our dreams.
But no count of promise or vow could ever,
Measure up to and equal a lie we undertake.
Because you can stand in front of the mirror,
And victimise yourself all you like,
But I know where it starts and how it starts.
It begins with me and my insecurities,
It peaks at your low blows and irregularities.
It ends with a rough estimate of dishonesty,
And a larger crime of your partaking.
I am not guilty and neither are you,
But if they were given a choice to
Pick either me or you to hold in the wrong,
I’d give myself up for your freedom.
Because the death of a soul or an empty
Bank account and a pulled trigger;
Could never be as fearsome, as terrifying,
As you not existing right next to me.


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