I can’t be what you need

God – I’m sorry,

For letting you put your trust in me,

When it should have ended in the arms of another soul.

What can I do,

But waste the Present you’ve bestowed,

Until it’s too late,

Slipped Past my grasp, dulled

From grasping at mirror-shards,

Falling around where I’m never gonna be.


I should have stopped your hope,

Which found a roost in my pock-marked soul,

Broken like a cosmic shooting range target,

Re-used and tattered,

But the Others’ light shining bright through my instances of emptiness,

Distracting your better senses from re-aligning your focus.


Please trust me when I tell you,

That you will find a better champion than me,

In the lack thereof.



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