Every Time

Every time I think I can can do it--
Every time I think maybe I can love you--
You turn on me.

You snarl and snap, and I think,
"Poor thing; you're frightened," and I think,
"Who did this to you?"

and I get angry and I fight for you.
But you snarl and snap.

How many times can you bite me
before I give up on you?

If that is the question you want answered,
I'll tell you:
This many. I quit. Is that what you want?
Do you want to drive me away?

I want to be compassionate,
but I'm no good if I'm angry all the time.
I can't be afraid all the time.

It's wrong, wrong, wrong
to leave you like this, when you're suffering so.
Everyone hurts you, and I don't want to add to that.

But it's wrong, wrong, wrong
to let you do this to me, too.