i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have helped you
i could have saved you
i could have taken your pain
worn it on my shoulders
and took your burdens for you
i could have wiped your tears away
poured the ***** down the drain
locked up the shotgun
and sang you to sleep
only in the morning you would still be there

i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have been there for you
i could have fixed what made you hurt
and made you forget about it
i could have held your hand
let you cry to me
soothed your aching heart with comforting words
and taken you away from everything
that changed you
maybe if i did
you would still be here

the same mistakes of idleness
and the same outcome
the same sharp sorrow and tortuous guilt
the same irreplaceable loss that i couldn’t stop

the same **** words that float in my head
enough times that i convince myself they’re true
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
and because i didn’t
i’m the only one left to tell myself that

we both watched them run until their bodies became to frail to function
they wore themselves out and broke themselves down into nothing
we behaved as if bystanders to some gruesome accident in the making
powerless in our capability to rescue,
but burdened with the weight of survivor’s guilt all the same

we both watched them run faster than we could keep up with
their arms pumped by their sides, their elbows shoving us away
we called out to them, we screamed:
"aren’t you getting tired yet?"
but our words were lost in the dust they created

we both watched them run farther away from us,
farther away from the unknown they were searching for so desperately
we both watched them run until there was nothing left to see

mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure

it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think

your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood

let me hear you say that you are nothing,
           that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
            an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
            although you don’t deserve that escape

i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer

i want you to go back:
             look into his eyes
             watch them dilate with fear
             and then see the light leave them

             feel his blood on your hands
             leaving a permanent mark
             that doesn’t wash off under water

             feel his body turn cold
             as the life inside him stops
             with his heartbeat

your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone

being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight