I'm not out to project my own down going. I love him whose soul is fickle despite chance As the world's retort. When they told me how you got cut I bought enough drugs to put monster under and celebrated for the both of us. They weren't my limbs that were lost but I reached for and sprinted towards a wholesome grief and couldn't carry it all. Took me a month to even talk Poetry sounds so selfish When you are needed to help another walk. The first night, a friend had called Said, "Get it all out For tomorrow you have to be strong."
Sorry ain't enough and my sorrow's only purpose is as a reminder for what needs to be done And to forget about any lesser want. My darling, I can't know without losing my leg In a hit and run But I know now you wear the same smile as before My god how could I have known something With such a fragile frame Could be so tough.
Most folks, myself, a poet included, Speak of greater reasons And ponder tragedy's meaning. Like us, She knows she doesn't deserve all she is made to Suffer. And I've found the greater ungodly glory Most folks are looking for In her unbroken joy.