The one thing I have learned so far
Is “to thyself be true.”
But I don't think you wanted me
To really look at you.

I thought that maybe if I hid
The doubt and made believe
That all the -shit- you said was true,
Then maybe you'd conceive

That maybe—maybe!—I'd understand,
And go where others wouldn't go.
I'd step upon the unbroken face
Of tender virgin snow.

My instincts told me all along
To run, to flee, to -get away-.
I laughed and didn't listen,
And now I've got to pay.

And in the end, you didn't care
About me quite enough.
I had to leave; I couldn't stand
To deal with all your … stuff.