The uneven pact

​We signed a silent treaty for this space,
A shared agreement built on fragile grace.
But your compliance wears a single lens,
For all the rules are made to guard your ends.

​You tracked my illness down to every slight,
A tiny deviation from the right,
And marched my weary chaos to the throne,
A breach of order you would not have shown
Had the fever been your own.

​Yet after dark, the contract rips apart.
The sudden, booming laughter, a midnight dart,
The unflushed, echoing failure you forgot,
A loud, relentless loop where peace is not.
Your life spills over every shared divide,
While mine must shrink and silently abide.
I am the captive audience, needing rest,
While your late-night confessions stand the test
Of the paper-thin wall.
​But here’s the truth I’d have you understand:

If the coin were flipped, and the power in my hand,                                                      The same small errors, the late-night sound—
You’d tear this fragile living to the ground.
You demand a standard you will never meet,
A harvest of respect, on an untended street.
The only law that matters, clear and stark,
Is that my peace is fuel for your loud dark.