Half the stuff I say to you I don't mean.
and if I sometimes seem harsh - I'm sorry.
Genuinely sorry. When I'm angry,
you're the only one around - so,
you get the worst of it, even though
you'd never say a word to hurt me.

But when I'm happy,
and the sun is blocking out the clouds,
the fair-weather friends return -
the ones who do cause pain and do hurt -
and I forget you even exist.

And for this, I really am sorry.
I shout at you; cry at you; gloat at you;
and all you do is endure.
So - sorry. And thank you. Maybe someday
I'll grow up enough to return the favour.
But 'till then, forgive me, and bear with me,
because I'd fall to pieces without you.