Maturity and seasoning are your proclamations.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.

How can you be so seasoned while
behaving so blandly?
Stories you've touted me of all your endeavors seem to be forgotten during our own, claiming naivety of how a woman of sorts obtained her winnings of the day.
I do have to say it wasn't an act, I did the best I could at keeping my character intact.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.

Merely an arm baby, bottle fed by the game, being led by someone who denies their “high” age.
You words were like a proverbial wisdom but I began to decipher them; watching the seasoning from all your travels dissipate into blandness.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.

I can recall the women in your stories and the profession they held, it was more than one instance, yet you still failed to foretell.
My assessment tells me something's amiss.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.

I agree you were a victim by definition but can only blame yourself for not using your own insight.
Surely you knew, just as much as I was new, that monogamy and addicts aren't hand-in-hand.
I can only take ownership of my fuck-ups and urge you to be my successor.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.

You are one, and I am another, existing as such will only be failure.
I've chosen to grow, growth is where I live.
You've chosen to be the victim in a never-ending past, with a dragon's breath you breathe constant life in to our arguments.
Fire spewing out, with each of those breaths, burning any foundation I could possibly beget.

And I proclaim wisdom and confusion cannot occupy the same space.