What I See…

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I’m not a man of many virtues
And I’m not out here to preach or church you
But I’ll be the first to speak when he hurts you

I look at you and see beauty wrapped in a mess
A lively soul ẃearing a sullen face
An unlikely alliance of folly and finesse

But when I begin to unfocus my eyes
And let his late night drinking patterns take rise
I see your naivety constantly falling for his lies

Peering out my window, I tilt my head slightly
I see how he’s the brute yet it’s you that lives contritely
Playing the good wife when he comes home fortnightly

Like a peacock unaware of its lovely feathers
This world will never truly know your splendor
An unsavoury thought from a keen observer


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