Delay

With conversation there is always a delay,
To reply, there is time to mess with my head in a way,
The words I speak,
Make me appear to be weak,
It's obvious why I am not in dismay,

It seemed like the rest was in my head,
People were questioning what was happening in my bed,
They were only fooled,
Like blood that pooled,
Just a mess for me to clean up instead,

To this trick I have been without a clue,
Top secret, people have been given a flu,
Something immoral,
No thought without a quarrel,
I felt that I would have finally turn blue,

I am finally becoming aware,
People feel justified and fair,
They are filled with lies,
The truth they despise,
Withholding words that I would swear.