It wasn’t yours to take, but nevertheless you ripped it from my grasp.

And you held on to it like a precious metal.

Your voice coarse like a rasp.

The cost of what you took now fatal.

What you held,

In the end was beyond even my right.

What we made,

Would have been worth the fight.

But in the end,

It wasn’t ours to keep.

Even if we did bend.

It wasn’t ours to reap.