For what I thought
was good
seems to be wrong.

And you won't talk to me anymore.
My words no longer matter.

Impending doom.
I gave chase;
and defined "futile."

Do you remember who I am?
Please understand me:
I don't want to make you.
I don't want to take you.
I don't want to break you.
So, I'll leave you now.

But I just thought you'd be happy with me.