The aching legs of a walking mind,
Sheltering from sudden shocks you find,
That let down friends are right to grumble,
And attribute blame to your feet that stumble.
Apologies litter the path I tread,
And sad thoughts play with a dream of bed,
Your eyes hold drunken, angry tears,
I'm losing fingertips, wet glove cold sears.
So many faces white wash the pain,
Into a jumbled heap. I feel the rain.
Emptiness hums a chord.
This feels like the truth, a mute numbing sword
That cut through this evening,
I'm glad we're still breathing.
My chest is so tight,
But who do I fight?
