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.
One can only run away,
from their thoughts for,
a certain amount of time,
before they catch up to you.
They'll clutch at your heels,
rip at your tender, exposed flesh,
pull their way under your virgin skin,
until they become as much a part of you,
as the constant numb that invades your days.
We're told all our lives,
there is a time for strength,
never a time for weakness;
but they're wrong, broken.
Weakness exists, and,
humanity is weakness.
Andy Veilleux 