Years Pass and How Do I Feel?

 A bit of poetry from me, which I don’t write at all, really. I write the following, not in an act of spite or vengeance, but simply to express my feelings. May my feelings be right, and may they be defended by whomever decides my fate. Oh, and tell me what you think of my poetry skills!
For two years
since I knew you to be friendly, I tried
and thought I succeeded
in breaching your human barrier. 
But at times I felt
like I’d been pushed back to square one. 
I can’t blame you for who you are
But I can’t let this pass either

It’s difficult to decide
in an age of words unspoken and of words that hurt
when to consider your feelings the truth
and when to discard them, for they are not true. 
I tried for a long, long time
to try to equal those whose affection you sought.
But through the passage of time, newfound
understanding has led me to think differently.
It would be a crime to say
that we’ve not spent good times;
times where we connected in a way
that only the best of pals do.

But those times are the exception, 
not the norm. Instead, 
feeling like it didn’t matter, 
dealing with you not caring, 
dealing with your indifference,
dealing with your bipolar soul, it seems, is what I usually find myself doing.
And as of recently, 
dealing with the truth. 
There is sympathy and unconditional positive regard in you;
that is what I seek. 
Why don’t you value my intentions
instead of pleasing someone else?

I give it to you in layman’s terms –

it strikes my last nerve
when I see you acting out of character
to please someone whom you oftentimes considered unworthy. 
I cannot be adamant about hate, 
for my condition forbids me, 
but I can be adamant about that which makes sense. 
And what makes sense to me today
is that you’ve got me on a leash. 
That you relish a challenge, 
that you don’t care for your allies, 
and instead aim to please the enemy. 
These are someone else’s words, 
and they can only do me one of two things –
make me acknowledge the truth of things
or hurt, hurt, hurt our labored friendship. 
I hope, 
for the better of myself, my conscience, 
and you, 
that these words are wise, and correct. 
I’m not religious
but I’m sure that He only rewards 
those who do the right thing. 
I pray and look to God when I hope that this is the right thing.

Good morning, America. 
Good morning, world. 
Good morning, friends and family. 
Hold my hands and lead me to salvation, please.

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