I hear the accusation, though it is never spoken, never actually presented to me. It is evident enough though, obvious in your involuntary glance away. The eyes tell a thousand truths the mouth dare not.
It is there, in the tone of voice, betraying the words you avoid. It is there, in the coolness of touch, in the absence of touch and more devastating still, in the frozen silence.
And yet you claw to know the facts, for judgement must be made on my fate. But I shall not grant you that courtesy. I am for me, not for you.
Just Punch The Clock 