The need to help others, in my experience, is one of the greatest weaknesses a person can have. Though posessing it is seen as a good thing and earns one the laurels of being noble or saintly, it’s a bitter curse that follows those who posses it, often clean to their grave.
Blame is probably one of the dirtiest words in the English language. Everyone looks for it, everyone takes it and everyone deals with it, but no one likes to talk about it. Even though we’re a world of people pointing fingers, our mouths are silent even as our fingers are outstretched.
On a long and solemn night
in the middle of a southern summer
we sat underneath the moonlight
whispering in the dark
though a million words were said
not a one could be heard
over the sound of teardrops falling
into the dew-soaked grass
Just when the shattering of two hearts
grew too much to bear
our minds started wondering
pondering what was said
searching for right answers
to questions never asked
seeking what could have been
while watching what we had blow away
with the winds of heavy breaths
Slowly we found ourselves hanging to every word
like reading the last chapter slowly
just trying to postpone the end
Because when we run out of things to say
and goodbye can be said no more
we’re disappearing into the distance
like mist fading into the cooling air
Soon there will only be memories
and the photographs that remain
cold comfort for an empty pillow
and the questions wrapped around my head
I just hope that you think of me
at least until the end of time
that you won’t lose me like I lost you
on that solemn night
when the teardrops fell through the warm summer air
