Can’t fly high enough,
can’t lift you up
to save you
from all of
the bad stuff.

Can’t slip into
your dreams
to comfort you
no matter
how much
I want to.

I’m not a super hero
so, I can’t
run super-fast
past the sound barrier
to get to where
you lie in despair.

Can’t cradle your face
and gently wipe away
the tears that
touch your grace.

Can’t change the pain
your feeling
into to some thing
less reeling
and more exciting
in a pleasant way.

Can’t kiss the lips
that spill such wit
calming the waking dread
that stirs in your anxious head.

But I can split my heart
into an unseemly mess
when you confess
all of your sorrow.