Defeat.

Love is not an object that is set in stone, nor is it a guideline that others need to clone. Yet you make it seem as if there are rules for the way that one should act. You spew vile, putrid insults and expect me not to react. Have I really seemed so foolish in my broken, battered past? To give you the impression that my stupidity is so vast? I am not a victim, nor will I play your games. You confuse me and control me, watch our love as it catches flame. I thought I had fulfilled my duty, as I supported you through the worst. Yet still your ego won't allow for you to put another first. I made an effort, truly did; yet you denied me of the thrill. Of taking credit for hard work, your effect was like a pill. The kind that made me sleep, undisturbed for days. We butted heads for far too long, refusing to change our stubborn ways. One question comes to mind: was our relationship doomed from the start? I must confess that I played my part, in taking you for granted and presuming that our love would stay enchanted. At the end of the storm, I managed to find. Emotions I had lost, that were one of a kind. The ones I hid from you, and concealed from myself. The ones I repressed, and placed high upon a shelf. It is now clear to me, that I lost myself along the way. I took the road less travelled, assumed that I'd be saved. But this accursed road was full of twists and turns; it gave the impression that it was safe but it had not even been paved. I played by your rules, never played the role of a liar or a cheat. Our battlefield unfolds to reveal that I concede to my defeat.