I never asked you to jump into the fire.
I admired you for staying devout.
So cool under pressure -
you held such grace then.
I thought you could pull me out.

But it wasn't my hand you were reaching for -
you were being pulled toward something else.
So I burned alive with your image in my eyes
and the taste of charred hope in my mouth.

From the ashes, I crawled out.
(insert phoenix metaphor here)
Only after everything else had disintegrated
was my fate revealed loud and clear.

But now you're there.

I was foolish then.
You were just a kid.
I always had my doubts.
I looked at you to do something that I had to do for myself.
This role-reversal is almost complete;
I can do for you what you couldn't do for me.
You've just got to ask for my help.