If my melodies are unlyrically dissonate
And our thoughts don’t always resonate;
Now for the umpteenth time as we disagree
I refrain from being obsequious, as I set my soul free.
If my happiness makes you scoff
And I still prefer to laugh it off;
You espoused to lie on my face
My bad, I couldn’t give you space.
If my couth doesn’t gratify your conceit
My being vociferous against every nugatory deceit;
It stirs the whirlpool of vehemence in my core
And it’s arduous to forbear and let trust galore.
If I decode your arcane dubiety on my credence
Patently you are my priority, on every scale of precedence;
Your doubts might cease with the surging of my realms
I beg your pardon, cause I still plump for fulfilling my dreams.