I've heard it said before
that I'm no exceptional fool.
To toil with myself
is what it means to live.

I've seen the morning sun's great flare
rising in the windows of your soul.
To see them now so blinded
by the agony of your youth,
It's as if you were a stranger in that upstairs room...

...or was I the stranger?

I've been beside you all along;
In the suffering.
In the waxing of laughter
and the waning of tears.

With your hands around my throat
I whispered,
"Smash my flesh,
break my bones,
take my life.
I would allow it,
if it meant that you knew how much
I loved you."