Confusion Poem by Clare McWilliams

The sense you make is futile
Your mind is not your own.
It's lost in pure confusion
You're weary to the bone.

It's not my job to save you
To be your back up clause
I'm a symptom not a cure dear
Of a life you wish there was.

Love is not demanding
But selfless despite pain
A decision made in clarity
For someone else's gain.

Life forged from betrayal
Is not what I required.
When confusion ends you'll see why
Of your selfishness I tired.