ARTificial: Not my intent by Robert Matheson

Balance is missing the chance To create a life of true romance; Enticed by its silver shine, I choose to walk on the edge Of a sharpened razor blade. And emerged a foolish funambulist, Trying to forgive deceitful words While believing premeditated bullshit.

The rope grew tighter As it constricted around my neck— A suffocating balance of dying, While trying to steal one last breath. Frantically digging, only to find The fantasy was all in my mind.

So lay the blame on me For my lack of actions; Call me weak and imbalanced For stepping off the chopping block. Scream your serrated accusations, Blame me for cutting the cord As your story slips and slides, In this never-ending search For elusive truth.

The truth is: The final cut came When you chose to hide your lover.

MATHESON 9-22-24