My Friend

Sit there staring across from me,
blissful in your ignorance.
I sit over here as I see
what will be your downfall is your arrogance.

Listen to me, dear old friend,
as I sit across from you.
I'll describe to you your end,
as I see it from my point of view.

You have stolen from me
what is most precious.
You have taken from me
what you considered delicious.

Go ahead, stare dead into my eyes
as I plot and scheme.
Go ahead and try to compromise
how and what I dream.

'How would you know?'
I imagine you'll ask.
'By that old leather glove
that you left at your task'

Ah yes, that glove as evidence,
so warn and gray.
A glove that is missing it's co-currence,
the side that has gone astray.

So where is it, dear obsession,
that glove of yours?
It's in my possession
locked away behind my doors.

Should I reach across the table
and steal the life away from you?
Be aware that I am able
but is it what I should do?

That act would mimic
what you did to my bride.
Put her in a panic
as you tightened what you had tied.

But at some point you removed the glove,
probably to adore her beauty.
You have taken what I love
and now I will do my duty.

But alas, my dreams are shattered,
as the cops put you in chains.
I'll keep the glove so tattered,
in memory of my pain.