Confession and Apology

I won’t let go.
And you can’t make me.
Stubborn until my fateful day; I’ll die saying yes.
Dirt flung overhead,
covering the cold hands that grasp my stance
It was probably the strain of greed and ignorance

that induced the heart attack anyways
I will not let you win.
Watch me state my non-congruent facts 

and evidence bags one, two, and three.
I’ll play the jury, giving them less than thoughtful accusations of your character
Articulately twisting your words to make them go along with my narrative
Truthfully, I’m hiding from realilty
I purposely stay on the optimistic side,

the side that crosses the line of fantasy
You’re optimistic too, but you take it all in with a grain of reality.
Looking at past cases and trials of the same circumstance
and with those creating a realistic view of the future
I burn those stories as I get them, skillfully never letting them enter my mind
I almost forget entirely about them even.
I hate the way you make me think.
The light shown on those family skeletons.
I have to face them.
Thanks for that.
I don’t want to though...
It’s so much easier when I either concentrate fully on how terrible it all is
and make it worse than it truly is
or, and this is the choice I choose to sit with,
I pretend that all that bad stuff has gone away in bitter nightmares
and everything is all better now
It’s gonna change
Right?
It is isn’t it...?