Perhaps It Was You Poem by Patti Masterman

It's not that we have tasks, that I complain-
But that never-ending doing never wanes.
It's not that people think the worst sometimes-
But the awful times, they choose to make their minds.

And how the ones, I would have thought as friends
Wait till my sad bereavement, that to end;
Allied themselves with con men, and plain thieves,
To then imply it's me- the one deceives.

The bosom buddies, who just loved to judge;
And my recent wounds, unsubtly rubbed-
How they assumed, they knew my secret mind-
And then assumed that I'm the one, unkind.

So if you do not see me haunt your door,
And my voice is silent, your parlors;
No letter in the mail is yet to come-
Perhaps was really you, the ties undone?