The Cost

I’m a gust of wind

I  expend

Until something breaks

So I go within

And you don’t have time

For a fleeting friend

And I can’t bear

To be one you can’t depend

Upon my word

I utter false pretense

But I’m convinced

I have pure intent

I can’t afford the heart you lent

And you can’t endure the energy spent

And so I write this poem to vent

You ask, “at what cost?”

Not even a cent