The bottom of the glass again,
Through the crystal design,
An obscure vision,
The world blurred and unaligned.
The sight i see,
Though new today.
Seems all but too familiar.
I obscure the things surrounding me.
I cause them to defect.
Again i left her in her in a place I always seek escape from.
Though unwillingly i must assume,
Perhaps my will transcends me.
It seems more and more that though i see my actions as innocent in my design,
A haze of rose must cloud my judgement.
It leaves me wondering this night.
Am i what i think of me.
Or perhaps here i do not critique myself with any impartial merit.
Yet my lack of pride,
Strange it seems,
Blocks me from another apology.
I often feel my sorries carry less weight than the breathes they ride on.
What worth is a word.
When no-one wishes to hear it.
What worth are my words.
When she may never see it.
I guess in here i address myself,
A man willingly broken.
All anger leaves me now,
In the damaged night i rest in.
And in walks more regret,
And out the one i was blessed with.
for Shanagh
