it’s too late 6.17.25 (7:00 pm / 19:00) i can still hear your voice still in my head you said ‘god bless you’ you held out your hands
i’m sorry for all the things i did i can’t imagine how it must be for you
i’m sorry i left you there i’m sorry didn’t try to help i’m sorry it’s far too late
i’m sorry for you and all those who carry your name pain is universal, i’m sorry i drew borders, i’m sorry i didn’t know
i’m sorry i left you sitting in a wheelchair in front of the stores i’m sorry i left you for you to leave us
today my mother said she saw you all the way downtown hanging with the people doing drugs i’m sorry
because you were one more person really not to different from me who could have been saved if only if only
we were a bit kinder
i guess it’s way too late
[playing (idk why): what dreams are made of - ballad version by paolo and isabella from the lizzie mcguire movie]
you can interpret this any way you want but while writing it i guess i was thinking about a houseless person i used to see asking for money in front of a store i go to. i always walked by them and felt guilty all the time, because my family is pretty well off and we could have spared a lot for them but we never did