You say you love me,
But you do not show it.

I hear you weep,
Crying that it isn't fair.
You say that you are an adult,
That you should be making your own choices.

Yet each time others stand up,
Putting themselves between us,
You fold under the burden of their ignorant words.

You're nothing more than a house of cards, are you?

How can you say that I mean something to you,
If you aren't even willing to fight for it; for us?
So many times, you whisper to me that your desires are not that of those around you.
Yet, how many of those times have you stood up for what you profess to want?

Not once; instead, you let those who care nothing for you ride you.
Whispering to my face,
You smile and say that you care.
Promises slip past your lips,
That if we simply accept their wishes and wait,
All will end well.

I don't believe that.
How could I?
These people are fools;
They have shown me that they understand nothing of anything.
But you cling to every foolishness they utter,
As though you were starving of sustenance.
As though their uncultured blindness was a solid foundation.

You're nothing more than a house of cards, are you?

You say you love me,
But how can I believe you?

Everything you do now screams one thing.
How can I believe that even if we bow to them,
That even if we wait,
You will stay?

Now, I do not know if I could ever trust you.
If I could ever trust you to stay,
Or whether you'd fly away the moment we met the slightest trouble with other fools.

You're nothing but a house of cards, are you?