Pinnacle

Fingers twitching, sweat is creeping
up my back, through my shirt seeping.
What's it this time that I've done?
Shall I pack my things and run?
What is that you say to me?
I've done something that you please?
What is up? What is your scheme?
Oh this must just be a dream.
Excuse my cynical point of view,
but I really don't trust you!

Sally