I think I still love you,
Even after you threw me into a pit of
Fiery self-blame for
Actions that were entirely selfish.
(I didn't force your hands and throat to act on impulse)
But the blissful ignorance of childhood
And you're no longer a Hercules-like God:
You're not so strong as I once
Made you out to be.
I've learned that loving you blindly
Is akin to holding favor with a demon;
You'll take a stab as soon as my back's turned
And blame it all on me.
Because your actions obviously had nothing to do
With my decisions: