Bút if I could go back, I’d run.
Was the veracity higher in degree
Never would you enter this proximity.
You were treacherous at first,
Brazen by the time the truth unrolled.
To believe that I was loved left me in a lurch,
Now disgusted with the credence I lended myself;
I’m waiting for the storm to calm,
For what’s done is done,
But if I could go back, I’d run.
