I failed you,

I failed you,

I failed you,

as a lover,

and a friend.

 

The blood has drained,

the night has settled,

but the love won't leave.

 

I pour words onto the pain,

pain uses me in return by,

pointing out the futility,

of everything I've written.

 

Pain questions my words,

and on bad nights,

my dear friends,

I do the same.