Halls of the Dark Muse

Why Must I?

Why must I do this to myself,
conjure up suspicion which I know
exists only within my own mind,
torment myself with visions
which were never really there,
see that which is not,
why must I be so conflicted with doubt
that the most ordinary things
appear before me in such
ugly light, that I imagine
some conspiracy,
whispers in the dark
which is only the wind,
why must I jeopardize
our happiness with my insanity
why must I speak one thing
and do another,
I know they say talk is cheap,
actions speak louder than words,
but my heart goes to war with itself,
when I tell you I trust you in all sincerity,
the first time it is tried
in some perfectly mundane
occurrence, I want to crumble,
because I forget what trust means,
why must I demand
what I have no right to ask for,
absolute ownership of your heart,
your mind, your soul,
when I know, I could not love you
if you were a puppet on a string.
Bear with me while I try
not to be my own worse enemy,
when I attempt to put on the charade
or rationality I might at times
give too much leeway,
and I cannot find the center point,
because I do not know how to balance
my craziness against sanity,
so I capsize between both extremes,
I have to try to swallow it down,
this poison of mine so it does not spread
and destroy everything we have both
struggled so hard for.