The Seeds Of Discontent
by Barbara Lynn Terry


Separated through no fault of my own,
The seeds of discontent are sown
On the winds of blame,
That ends this romantic frame.

The picture is fuzzy and bleak,
Snapped with jealousy and rage,
Our love together I did seek,
But she was like a wicked mage.

She wants to be the guy,
And I am supposed to buy
Everything she does and says,
With no argument for all my days.

She has no reason or rhyme,
To want another through the time,
We have been together,
And I hoping it would last forever.

She says this is a game,
Knowing deep inside the pain,
That is in my heart
Hoping we would never part.

But the seeds of discontent are sown,
Through no fault of my own.
She can play her silly game,
And I will remain happy, even in my pain.

Because I love her so, I will let her go,
So that she will know
That to play her game,
I am too old.