It's no surprise and it's not unusual
That history repeats itself. It has to.
There's only so many different outcomes
For that one same argument. So after
We've taken turns to play the victim, or
That we didn't even care. We're back
At square one. Too young to play grown-up
Yet too old to make-believe it away.
So there it is. Our own private elephant
In the room. And we're peering past it's
Legs and it's a jungle out there. Both
Vying for last place and lying to our
Friends about who's in the wrong. Even
Though we both know it doesn't matter.
Apologies are for the weak and indignance
Is so much less costly. So we publically
Lick our private wounds and mourn the
Loss of one another. And it's sharply
Painful to be alone. But nothing can get
In the way when all you have is a
Stubborn insistance that you cannot be wrong.