The Fight

My life is so perfectly fantastic without you,
yet you try to convince me otherwise.
You try to order me what to do
as if I am equipped with blind eyes,
yet somehow you seem to continually
be a dog in this internal fight,
one that is trained impressively ferociously,
one that packs a punch with its bite.
You take what my vision daily sees
and, for your own beneficial use, turn it on its head.
You take truths known and twist them into deceits
turning what was once common knowledge into confusion instead.
My mind's eye can get back onto the right path
but your trickery does not permit that for long
as your faux-friendship, disguised anger and wrath,
wastes no time in leading any soul down a path of wrong.
The definition of the blind leading the blind,
one of us is bound to cause the other certain death,
an outcome already dreamed about in each mind,
a goal desired, pursued until nothing's left;
but you must remember something in preparation
for a battle soon to be a near endless war:
you had better allot time for recuperation
as this fight will be all you asked for and more.