Covenant: Carrying Weight
Cuba:
I'm sacking along nearly seven feet of chemical coma, its early...too early in the night to just drag him behind and he's a good head and a half taller. The old under one arm "hey this is just my drunk buddy" routine isn't gonna fly. We're making mouse time on an eagles flight path, hugging alleyways and taking scenic routes.
Its rough work but I'm built for it, gotta get this fish back to the pond, have to confront Para, gotta make him see reason for all this mess. Can't carve anything on this asshole's forehead and I wont carve into Para, but these voices cry out too. They demand some justice, I have to give it to them, tortured and mutilated, killed for no larger crime than being related to the fucking Sadist.
If I wasn't in some small way afraid of that kid I'd grab him and let him see the lights just long enough to make him see, really see, how they died and what Lady thinks about all this mess. Gotta tell big boy, better yet get this asshole talking again and let him tell big boy how Para sent him cash and told him to go on a little film school trip. Now we just have to make it most of the way across Cuba, I'll nip a car or something once it gets late enough but for now its just me and my big green friend. At least he's skinny, and while I've got the time, it's time you and I had a talk. Yes you, the stars the what ever you are, the reason this is all here. One word sums it all up for you.
Regret.
Meaning: A feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc.
I've carried it like a cinder block in my pants for so long it's got a name and I take it for a walk once a day. Living a life with out it is easy as long as you're young and you don't fuck anything up...ever. To most it's like a seedling that nestles in the cuff of your pants on a long camping trip. It grows in the loose dirt, you let it sit long enough you'll have a tree for a leg but at least you can still manage to walk. My regret is handed me one voice at a time, my shame in who I am and who I continue to be manifests itself daily in my living breath.
On that subject am I alive? I breath, I get hungry when I don't eat, but I don't look like "normal people", well not entirely anyway. The subtle parts of me give dead away to what I've become. The needle marks and the war wounds heal like pin pricks in silk, I still have the same scars I had from childhood but I age so slowly, so imperceptible to those around me it hardly seems fare.
By that I mean it isn't, not one fucking bit to be honest. Hanna...she's not the first "normal person" I've ever loved since the change. Please settle for understanding when I say being with her is the closest to anything perfect I've ever known as fractured as it is. It's also the first time in decades I've let anyone get close to me. I have no fear of being hurt, pain has become a faithful mistress to me since my "change". But dear reader you will never in any relative way understand me when I say I've lived the life time of one who loved me.
She died in my arms old and crying for the inability to see the end of immortality with me, she wasn't old by any means but she'd spent a normal persons life pushing junk up her veins no one was expecting "old age" on her death certificate. I'd spent 30 wasted years dragging her from one miserable town to another tracking down the ones the voices told me to find. She spent 30 years with no real friends other than me, and junk. Junk was her Jesus like junk is my escape from the thing I was and still am. Funny how she was running full tilt for the end I was crawling out of, life is a bitch and other post modern T-shirt sayings.
Her name was Elizabeth and she was fifty four years old when her heart gave out, thirty years before that very day, she met me at a smoke filled biker bar. It was a simple relationship, she was holding, I needed a fix and she needed cash. It was a match made in some sort of Philip Dick novel. It wasn't a week later before I'd cleared out the guy who was using her for a door stop on Fridays and an ash tray on Sundays, my boots under the bed where his had been. Simple just the way I liked it then.
He was there at the time, he told me a head of time how it would end, the desperation and agony in watching a bright fire extinguish itself in the sort of lava life he and I where leading. He said how I was just like him, living a damned eternity to right the wrongs and do "his" justice. He told me in plain words how he'd love no less than five women and had watched three of them die waiting for him to grow old with them. All those centuries, those eons, I hate him but I feel so sorry for the lost and empty look behind those intense eyes of his.
He hated it, hated it all and deep inside him is still a fire wielding barbarian hoping to burn it all to the ground. I can't judge him for that, can't even blame him, after watching Elizabeth give up EVERYTHING for her and I. Watching her start to just do drugs because she knew I'd never stop, watching her pack it in her veins in place of a family she could have cleaned up and had. I wanted to burn it all down myself.
She was with me for about a year when she got pregnant the first time, it never came out, doctors said it died and calcified in the womb. We went through that two more times over the next ten years before we just got a cat that traveled with us. She knew what I was, couldn't hide it after a while, never staying anywhere long, quitting job after job. God bless her she never resented it, never hated me, after a while I found a doctor in Mexico to snip it all so she'd stop going to the hospital with dead kids inside her.
That was life, on the run and high as fuck for thirty years, but they weren't her years, they where all mine. She got nothing and I stole a life as sure as I'd killed someone just to be some kind of crazy happy. The day she died in my arms he came. I'd have tossed out my stash, sold my good needle and left with the traveling circus if he'd have just gone the fuck away. But he didn't he sat out side my place for more than a day before I let him in.
He didn't say "I told you so", he never said a word, he stuck me in a tub and played mother while I sat and said nothing. I know now why he did it. But I won't cheapen the feelings that where for the ugly yet simple truths that are. He just walked in and cleaned me up and handed me some cash and left like he came. I learned my lesson like a kid that moves back in with mom after the first O.D.
I was back on track and back on mission, taking it out on the ones who rape and murder, the ones who make the voices come into my head radio blazing and stereo loud in the dead of night. Life is so precious so fucking precious and if they'd all just shut their crying mouths and prying eyes they'd realize the word is just the word and the word is everything.
If they'd live life like they want to letting others do the same, if they'd hold their own water in life and hold themselves accountable I'd be on a beach in Cabo cleaning up. Other arguments for other days I suppose. On to her since I'm in a bargaining mood lord. We've never seen eye to eye. Hell I've never even seen you and I'm not sure if you see me or anything, these days I wonder if I'm just an old sub routine sent in to defragment the red lines on your fucking hard drive.
He tells me there's only one way out and that's the way I got into this. To let someone kill my body and to relinquish this curse onto them. After Elizabeth and everything else I'm inclined to believe him, god knows I've dry eyed my way through as many volumes as my patience will allow to find something else. There is NO ESCAPE for me it seems. None that allows me to steal back the moment I "protected" a drug dealer from the righteous hand of god. No reprieves and no respite for the wicked, its a great double handed sword you wield in the class room we call life, I'll give you that. I've also given you the finger, every dirty word I know, six lives I've taken in my time with out consent from anyone and a life time of questioning your "authority" and your "justice".
I've been an ugly step son and I wont lie about it. If nothing I hold my fucking water, you of all should see that much. So here is my useless plea. I have Hanna now, have you seen her? Have you seen me? I once heard Lady say you might be blind like she was, but can you feel us. Out there where ever you are, if you are there, can you smell and touch and taste what she and I have.
Is it envy? Is it pride? Is it the need to derail and deride what you aren't? Don't take this one from me dammit, you hear me out there! Give me this one, give me to her so I can be her everything, let me be the love she needs and let her love me. For once I have a fractured fantasy, a fairy tale of severe Tim Burton revelation. Let me have my Sally, she's got stitches a plenty, she could be just as useful as me, I have so many voices. Lord, do me this one favor and it's the only one I will ever ask, find a way for her to have what I have, to be what I am. Two of us could do your will in unparalleled ways.
She's fit and stable for what you need. She'd hold to it better than I ever could. Or better than I ever did. I was an accident a mistake, she's told me she'd welcome what I do, welcome it to be as useful to the world, as useful to you and she wants to take a small part of the burden you've given me. I'm trying lord, give me a life with someone like me, I never asked you for anything. I never begged you for Elizabeth's life, I never begged you to kill me or let me die. Now I know why. I've found the one person who will ALWAYS be there with me.
Please lord, don't let someone else grow old and die in my empty arms. I fear for myself, I fear for the rest of them as well. I fear that the little fire wielding barbarian in so many of us might come screaming out. He is rambling these days lord. When I brought Hanna in to our little "council" he didn't even bat an eye. Behind the intense stares, beyond the fire wielding hate, above all of that is a weary stone cold knowledge I truly fear.
He knows something, something deep and cold as the leviathan, and something as hot and eternal as the hell you left for us to read about and fear. Lord, I do fear it, I do, I'll admit that much and only that much to you, now give me one life time, just one short life time with her so I'll know one life time to live in reality, even if its a reality of doing your work together. Give me this one thing I beg of you. After that I'll walk gladly to your inferior.
Fully knowing of what is ahead of me I ask you this lord. Give me the next fifty years with her and I'll roast in hell eternal like a pig on a spit. Its so very worth it and so very important to me. All I offer in my offers inequity is this.
I offer this, I've spent long enough in this skin, so long, too long, I've done your bidding and I've learned how to ignore it, it hurts but I'll manage, I'm not sure if you can just "pull the plug" on what I am. I'm willing to find out soon, if there can't be a middle ground between what I "owe" the world and the one thing I need in my life.
To this I leave you with one thing, "If I cannot have love I will cause fear", its the only thing I can promise you, but if you let her grow gray in my arms I will pack away these loud voices or let go screaming on as I do works against your obvious "plans".
That said, and coming across a car it's time we ended this lovely one sided conversation, think long and hard on the choices, think hard on what you can give me and the little you'd leave me with. I've got places to go, and some people to see.
Baracoa Cuba:
An old ford focus screams up the paved highway tires screeching just short of the warehouse one of the cars occupants has called home for nearly a year now. She comes out to greet it, hair matted from sleep, make up a wash of blacks and greens across her beautiful mouse brown eyes. He/it crawls out from behind the wheel into her arms. He only gives her as much weight as he knows her small frame can carry, the rest he'll manage with. They embrace as Big Boy comes out blurry eyed, boxer shorts and all American looks even at his age.
"Thought you where dead you crazy fucker", he almost seems glad to see the lunatic.
"Nearly big boy, nearly...the culprit is curled up in the passenger seat, he's worse off though, break out your gear we need to revive him".
She takes even more of his weight hauling him over to the cars hood to sit him down.
Big boy's sandals make clogging impacts on the gravel as he walks to the passenger side.
"Whew...smells worse than you do, this the one you said Para was responsible for hiring"?
"Yeah, you get the gold star big boy, when did you get time to sneak onto Para's computer"?
"Few months ago, come on, if they can teach you how to use a computer you black eyed freak, you think I forgot how"?
"Fuck you...(laughs his lunatic laugh) time to have a talk with Para".
"Too late baby", she says with care almost whispering into the Sin Eaters ear.
"She's right SE, he bugged out two days ago when we all left to go on the prowl".
"Any idea where he's headed big boy"?
"None, Nurse spent an entire day trying to dig into the computers he left behind, nothing".
She whispers into the lunatics ear "He left a chunk of cash and a note saying he'd be gone for a while, that's it and he's got the remaining computers locked down, I can't do anything with them".
"Big Boy...grab the bastard and drag him in anyway, you know me, I get sentimental over the ones that manage to damage me".
"That I do SE, that I do, I'll get him out, and lock him up, I'll even make sure he doesn't die...just for you".
"Old times, big boy...old times".
"Yeah, old times...sure". He still looks at the leather jacketed punk clad lunatic with a mixture of profound knowing and complete mistrust.
"You two go do...what ever it is you do, I got this".
He takes the green suited man from the car with all the care a man handles a bag of garbage and the three of them vanish into the wide steal mouth of the warehouse.
Blue October: Overweight (modified)
Ever carried the weight of another?
For how long?
I walk as far as they need to recover
For how long?
I want to carry a piece of who I was before
So when I hit the wall, I really hit the wall
I want to tear away the death again
A whiter shade of fucking meth again
I want to stick to clues, I want to come unglued
I want to shape the world to fit the way you move
Oh, should I listen for a dress size?
I owned up, I've grown up, do you remember me?
I showed up and so what if I'm the used to be
I'm here to tell you that I'm sorry I was sorry
But I'm happy that you're happy
This is no longer about me
Trade rules, switch sides for your beautiful eyes
Let him be you through your beautiful cries
Let him hold you up so you can touch affordable skies
Live your life just like a dream
Without the pain of goodbyes
Goodbye!
I been a drunk disrespectful little street punk
Unlock the back of my trunk
You see, you take this bat
And bash my head into the street again
No-ones around so I keep beating it
Pull my hair back, look me in the eye
There's a self-destructive meaning in the bleeding of a guy
It's the guilt of what reality has given me
Making sense of all mistakes and my stupidity
And when you're sick you seem to think
You've failed eternally
And that the people you let in are only crumbling
When you're sick of thinking life in this recovery
When my decision paved the road
That lies in front of me
So to my friends that even call but I don't call back
I want you deep inside my heart upon a hill
It seems to hide sometimes and run away and wonder
I'm really sick of saying sorry but I will
Ever carried the weight of another?
For how long?
I walk as far as they need to recover
For how long?
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Cuba:
I'm sacking along nearly seven feet of chemical coma, its early...too early in the night to just drag him behind and he's a good head and a half taller. The old under one arm "hey this is just my drunk buddy" routine isn't gonna fly. We're making mouse time on an eagles flight path, hugging alleyways and taking scenic routes.
Its rough work but I'm built for it, gotta get this fish back to the pond, have to confront Para, gotta make him see reason for all this mess. Can't carve anything on this asshole's forehead and I wont carve into Para, but these voices cry out too. They demand some justice, I have to give it to them, tortured and mutilated, killed for no larger crime than being related to the fucking Sadist.
If I wasn't in some small way afraid of that kid I'd grab him and let him see the lights just long enough to make him see, really see, how they died and what Lady thinks about all this mess. Gotta tell big boy, better yet get this asshole talking again and let him tell big boy how Para sent him cash and told him to go on a little film school trip. Now we just have to make it most of the way across Cuba, I'll nip a car or something once it gets late enough but for now its just me and my big green friend. At least he's skinny, and while I've got the time, it's time you and I had a talk. Yes you, the stars the what ever you are, the reason this is all here. One word sums it all up for you.
Regret.
Meaning: A feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc.
I've carried it like a cinder block in my pants for so long it's got a name and I take it for a walk once a day. Living a life with out it is easy as long as you're young and you don't fuck anything up...ever. To most it's like a seedling that nestles in the cuff of your pants on a long camping trip. It grows in the loose dirt, you let it sit long enough you'll have a tree for a leg but at least you can still manage to walk. My regret is handed me one voice at a time, my shame in who I am and who I continue to be manifests itself daily in my living breath.
On that subject am I alive? I breath, I get hungry when I don't eat, but I don't look like "normal people", well not entirely anyway. The subtle parts of me give dead away to what I've become. The needle marks and the war wounds heal like pin pricks in silk, I still have the same scars I had from childhood but I age so slowly, so imperceptible to those around me it hardly seems fare.
By that I mean it isn't, not one fucking bit to be honest. Hanna...she's not the first "normal person" I've ever loved since the change. Please settle for understanding when I say being with her is the closest to anything perfect I've ever known as fractured as it is. It's also the first time in decades I've let anyone get close to me. I have no fear of being hurt, pain has become a faithful mistress to me since my "change". But dear reader you will never in any relative way understand me when I say I've lived the life time of one who loved me.
She died in my arms old and crying for the inability to see the end of immortality with me, she wasn't old by any means but she'd spent a normal persons life pushing junk up her veins no one was expecting "old age" on her death certificate. I'd spent 30 wasted years dragging her from one miserable town to another tracking down the ones the voices told me to find. She spent 30 years with no real friends other than me, and junk. Junk was her Jesus like junk is my escape from the thing I was and still am. Funny how she was running full tilt for the end I was crawling out of, life is a bitch and other post modern T-shirt sayings.
Her name was Elizabeth and she was fifty four years old when her heart gave out, thirty years before that very day, she met me at a smoke filled biker bar. It was a simple relationship, she was holding, I needed a fix and she needed cash. It was a match made in some sort of Philip Dick novel. It wasn't a week later before I'd cleared out the guy who was using her for a door stop on Fridays and an ash tray on Sundays, my boots under the bed where his had been. Simple just the way I liked it then.
He was there at the time, he told me a head of time how it would end, the desperation and agony in watching a bright fire extinguish itself in the sort of lava life he and I where leading. He said how I was just like him, living a damned eternity to right the wrongs and do "his" justice. He told me in plain words how he'd love no less than five women and had watched three of them die waiting for him to grow old with them. All those centuries, those eons, I hate him but I feel so sorry for the lost and empty look behind those intense eyes of his.
He hated it, hated it all and deep inside him is still a fire wielding barbarian hoping to burn it all to the ground. I can't judge him for that, can't even blame him, after watching Elizabeth give up EVERYTHING for her and I. Watching her start to just do drugs because she knew I'd never stop, watching her pack it in her veins in place of a family she could have cleaned up and had. I wanted to burn it all down myself.
She was with me for about a year when she got pregnant the first time, it never came out, doctors said it died and calcified in the womb. We went through that two more times over the next ten years before we just got a cat that traveled with us. She knew what I was, couldn't hide it after a while, never staying anywhere long, quitting job after job. God bless her she never resented it, never hated me, after a while I found a doctor in Mexico to snip it all so she'd stop going to the hospital with dead kids inside her.
That was life, on the run and high as fuck for thirty years, but they weren't her years, they where all mine. She got nothing and I stole a life as sure as I'd killed someone just to be some kind of crazy happy. The day she died in my arms he came. I'd have tossed out my stash, sold my good needle and left with the traveling circus if he'd have just gone the fuck away. But he didn't he sat out side my place for more than a day before I let him in.
He didn't say "I told you so", he never said a word, he stuck me in a tub and played mother while I sat and said nothing. I know now why he did it. But I won't cheapen the feelings that where for the ugly yet simple truths that are. He just walked in and cleaned me up and handed me some cash and left like he came. I learned my lesson like a kid that moves back in with mom after the first O.D.
I was back on track and back on mission, taking it out on the ones who rape and murder, the ones who make the voices come into my head radio blazing and stereo loud in the dead of night. Life is so precious so fucking precious and if they'd all just shut their crying mouths and prying eyes they'd realize the word is just the word and the word is everything.
If they'd live life like they want to letting others do the same, if they'd hold their own water in life and hold themselves accountable I'd be on a beach in Cabo cleaning up. Other arguments for other days I suppose. On to her since I'm in a bargaining mood lord. We've never seen eye to eye. Hell I've never even seen you and I'm not sure if you see me or anything, these days I wonder if I'm just an old sub routine sent in to defragment the red lines on your fucking hard drive.
He tells me there's only one way out and that's the way I got into this. To let someone kill my body and to relinquish this curse onto them. After Elizabeth and everything else I'm inclined to believe him, god knows I've dry eyed my way through as many volumes as my patience will allow to find something else. There is NO ESCAPE for me it seems. None that allows me to steal back the moment I "protected" a drug dealer from the righteous hand of god. No reprieves and no respite for the wicked, its a great double handed sword you wield in the class room we call life, I'll give you that. I've also given you the finger, every dirty word I know, six lives I've taken in my time with out consent from anyone and a life time of questioning your "authority" and your "justice".
I've been an ugly step son and I wont lie about it. If nothing I hold my fucking water, you of all should see that much. So here is my useless plea. I have Hanna now, have you seen her? Have you seen me? I once heard Lady say you might be blind like she was, but can you feel us. Out there where ever you are, if you are there, can you smell and touch and taste what she and I have.
Is it envy? Is it pride? Is it the need to derail and deride what you aren't? Don't take this one from me dammit, you hear me out there! Give me this one, give me to her so I can be her everything, let me be the love she needs and let her love me. For once I have a fractured fantasy, a fairy tale of severe Tim Burton revelation. Let me have my Sally, she's got stitches a plenty, she could be just as useful as me, I have so many voices. Lord, do me this one favor and it's the only one I will ever ask, find a way for her to have what I have, to be what I am. Two of us could do your will in unparalleled ways.
She's fit and stable for what you need. She'd hold to it better than I ever could. Or better than I ever did. I was an accident a mistake, she's told me she'd welcome what I do, welcome it to be as useful to the world, as useful to you and she wants to take a small part of the burden you've given me. I'm trying lord, give me a life with someone like me, I never asked you for anything. I never begged you for Elizabeth's life, I never begged you to kill me or let me die. Now I know why. I've found the one person who will ALWAYS be there with me.
Please lord, don't let someone else grow old and die in my empty arms. I fear for myself, I fear for the rest of them as well. I fear that the little fire wielding barbarian in so many of us might come screaming out. He is rambling these days lord. When I brought Hanna in to our little "council" he didn't even bat an eye. Behind the intense stares, beyond the fire wielding hate, above all of that is a weary stone cold knowledge I truly fear.
He knows something, something deep and cold as the leviathan, and something as hot and eternal as the hell you left for us to read about and fear. Lord, I do fear it, I do, I'll admit that much and only that much to you, now give me one life time, just one short life time with her so I'll know one life time to live in reality, even if its a reality of doing your work together. Give me this one thing I beg of you. After that I'll walk gladly to your inferior.
Fully knowing of what is ahead of me I ask you this lord. Give me the next fifty years with her and I'll roast in hell eternal like a pig on a spit. Its so very worth it and so very important to me. All I offer in my offers inequity is this.
I offer this, I've spent long enough in this skin, so long, too long, I've done your bidding and I've learned how to ignore it, it hurts but I'll manage, I'm not sure if you can just "pull the plug" on what I am. I'm willing to find out soon, if there can't be a middle ground between what I "owe" the world and the one thing I need in my life.
To this I leave you with one thing, "If I cannot have love I will cause fear", its the only thing I can promise you, but if you let her grow gray in my arms I will pack away these loud voices or let go screaming on as I do works against your obvious "plans".
That said, and coming across a car it's time we ended this lovely one sided conversation, think long and hard on the choices, think hard on what you can give me and the little you'd leave me with. I've got places to go, and some people to see.
Baracoa Cuba:
An old ford focus screams up the paved highway tires screeching just short of the warehouse one of the cars occupants has called home for nearly a year now. She comes out to greet it, hair matted from sleep, make up a wash of blacks and greens across her beautiful mouse brown eyes. He/it crawls out from behind the wheel into her arms. He only gives her as much weight as he knows her small frame can carry, the rest he'll manage with. They embrace as Big Boy comes out blurry eyed, boxer shorts and all American looks even at his age.
"Thought you where dead you crazy fucker", he almost seems glad to see the lunatic.
"Nearly big boy, nearly...the culprit is curled up in the passenger seat, he's worse off though, break out your gear we need to revive him".
She takes even more of his weight hauling him over to the cars hood to sit him down.
Big boy's sandals make clogging impacts on the gravel as he walks to the passenger side.
"Whew...smells worse than you do, this the one you said Para was responsible for hiring"?
"Yeah, you get the gold star big boy, when did you get time to sneak onto Para's computer"?
"Few months ago, come on, if they can teach you how to use a computer you black eyed freak, you think I forgot how"?
"Fuck you...(laughs his lunatic laugh) time to have a talk with Para".
"Too late baby", she says with care almost whispering into the Sin Eaters ear.
"She's right SE, he bugged out two days ago when we all left to go on the prowl".
"Any idea where he's headed big boy"?
"None, Nurse spent an entire day trying to dig into the computers he left behind, nothing".
She whispers into the lunatics ear "He left a chunk of cash and a note saying he'd be gone for a while, that's it and he's got the remaining computers locked down, I can't do anything with them".
"Big Boy...grab the bastard and drag him in anyway, you know me, I get sentimental over the ones that manage to damage me".
"That I do SE, that I do, I'll get him out, and lock him up, I'll even make sure he doesn't die...just for you".
"Old times, big boy...old times".
"Yeah, old times...sure". He still looks at the leather jacketed punk clad lunatic with a mixture of profound knowing and complete mistrust.
"You two go do...what ever it is you do, I got this".
He takes the green suited man from the car with all the care a man handles a bag of garbage and the three of them vanish into the wide steal mouth of the warehouse.
Blue October: Overweight (modified)
Ever carried the weight of another?
For how long?
I walk as far as they need to recover
For how long?
I want to carry a piece of who I was before
So when I hit the wall, I really hit the wall
I want to tear away the death again
A whiter shade of fucking meth again
I want to stick to clues, I want to come unglued
I want to shape the world to fit the way you move
Oh, should I listen for a dress size?
I owned up, I've grown up, do you remember me?
I showed up and so what if I'm the used to be
I'm here to tell you that I'm sorry I was sorry
But I'm happy that you're happy
This is no longer about me
Trade rules, switch sides for your beautiful eyes
Let him be you through your beautiful cries
Let him hold you up so you can touch affordable skies
Live your life just like a dream
Without the pain of goodbyes
Goodbye!
I been a drunk disrespectful little street punk
Unlock the back of my trunk
You see, you take this bat
And bash my head into the street again
No-ones around so I keep beating it
Pull my hair back, look me in the eye
There's a self-destructive meaning in the bleeding of a guy
It's the guilt of what reality has given me
Making sense of all mistakes and my stupidity
And when you're sick you seem to think
You've failed eternally
And that the people you let in are only crumbling
When you're sick of thinking life in this recovery
When my decision paved the road
That lies in front of me
So to my friends that even call but I don't call back
I want you deep inside my heart upon a hill
It seems to hide sometimes and run away and wonder
I'm really sick of saying sorry but I will
Ever carried the weight of another?
For how long?
I walk as far as they need to recover
For how long?
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Leave a comment
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