sometime in 2000 and 6

At times I would blame the wind,
I would usually blame the rain
Those nights I stood outside in the snow, in the fog,
You never came.

You would think of these excuses.
I listened, but never accused,
still never excused.
Battered and bruised
I was easily amused.

At times I would blame my mother,
blame the current, heck, blame my brother.
Because you were perfect,
and it was worth it.

You would laugh at the gold you stole,
the stories told.
Lies...
New and old.

3 years later,
now i'm the creator