Locked up safe inside the brain
Those thoughts of you and all your pain
Pain that he had wrought on you
Accusations, cruel, untrue.
Alone, forgiven, here he’ll sit
To have your love he is unfit
And thinking back his tears return
To fall on guilty cheeks that burn.

Such foolish pride do men possess
Who when mistaken, can’t confess
Yet sit alone and brood unnerved
Where conversation isn’t served
Until at last we face ourself
And see our guilt in all its wealth.

©Joe Wilson – Such foolish pride…2015