Don't

To you it's just an argument.
To you it's just a row.
For me, it is a process.
One I cannot allow.
It isn't to annoy you,
Nor does it mean that I don't care.
For me it is a process,
And one I seldom share.
It's sound and it's confusion,
With an overwhelming heat.
It's words and exasperation,
Which trembles from the feet.
It's loss and transformation,
With a widening of the eyes.
It's fear and its illusion,
With a sense that all is lies.  
So this is not a process you can be privy too
You see,
Because this happenes to be a process,
That changes all that's me.