The Account

If I were to name and count, the reasons that I still have doubt. I wouldn't know just where to begin...but then again.
Digging in the dirt, sifting through the hurt. Perception seems like birth, of laboured love and worth. The pain you have endured, don't mean you have been cured of the reasons there's still doubt, that you can name and count.
Of course the source will try to apply more pressure to regret. Deny but still rely on force to bury treasure spent on sentiment. To forget the names and lose the count, a great amount remains as doubt. Demeans the reasons claimed about. Digging can get the meaning out.
Bit by bit through sleight of hand, the edge of every coin that splits. The cost that crossed the toss then lands, demands expense in chance exist. Perceptive reasoning unearthed. The treasure, love, truth and worth. Sifting passed, not through the hurt. And all from digging in the dirt. So the doubt was there when it begins with,...but then again.
Through misdirection, the mirrors reflection shows only pain and strain. Dissention adds a grain of salt to wounds made fresh from fear and pain. It's no new news two sides define distinctive middles, improves the clues designed to solve instinctive riddles.
 If I was told to pick and choose the articles in life to lose. Would I invest the interest to amuse, as another measure of abuse begins again. Lighting every fuse, fighting every truce. Attention can't select the source you can't protect. The strain that struck a chord, don't mean you can afford to pick apart your heart, by forcing it to choose.
 Of choice will try to apply predictions to correct. Despite the will that's set aside selections fit descriptions of perfect. To choose and pick what's safe, well spent, The heart. of every argument. The lightning striking rains rewards. Reminds you to respect the attention in the mirrors reflection shows what's to gain from strain. Dissention adds a grain of salt to wounds made fresh from fear and pain.
 It's no new news two sides combine decide the distant middles. Improves the clues designed to solve inside distinctive riddles.
 Bit by bit, through strength and stand, the eve of every atom splits. The hourglass that sifts the sand, expands the mind as time exists.The pounding heart that sets apart. The Muse that wins refusing loss. Affords the price to play the chords. Commands the force to strike a cause. To pick the source to protect and choose to fight against abuse.
 Correct the course that offsets chance. Accept the life you're given. The hand of time, what holds your heart ,distracts the present. The past is driven.The answers learned through questions asked will move you forward in advance. To strictly stand, to gather strays.To see beyond the star set gaze.
 If I was asked to write a list of all the things I might have missed. A task unmasking every gist, once a pens clinched in my fist. It hits again. Blanks and space that lacks, slipping through the cracks. The facts that boldly face the frightening flight and fall from grace. The needle in the stack becomes the straw that broke the camel's back. So just resist. Some lists just might be trite. Wrong or right, you'll be alright.