My My

My my, what we have here
is a no-good, no-win, mess.
And I'm grasping at straws
tripping over what was, what wasn't,
and frankly, what will never be.
We have so much to rehash
relive, remember, regret,
and so much to leave behind.

I just can't see what the end will look like.
Can you?

Shall We?

My arm is tied to a rope,
Tightly, I am secured,
You hold the other end,
And as you walk on, I drag suitably behind you.
I didn't think this was in your nature,
But maybe I read this wrong. . .
Sometimes I wonder if you've forgotten,
That I am down here attached to this rope.
My legs torn up, my wrist burnt,
I try to tell you to stop, to let me up,
But you can't hear me.
Maybe it's not even your fault,
Maybe you don't even know I'm down here,
But I am, and I think it's time this ended.
I've been dragged behind you,
Hanging in the balance,
Waiting on you to stop those feet,
Untie this rope, and pick me up.
Let's cut to the chase, shall we?